


I Mean It, You'll Be Fine

by Natileroxs



Category: Black Veil Brides, I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), My Chemical Romance, Palaye Royale (Band), Set It Off (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst, Gen, Kidnapping, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Beta Read, Suicide Attempt, Violence, eventually, everything will be confusing but it'll make sense, so if i get stuff wrong don't kill me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2019-11-16 01:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18085163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natileroxs/pseuds/Natileroxs
Summary: He doesn't care what they tell him, so carefully and gently like he is going to break. He doesn't care that he's been driving his little brother to a graveyard for six years. He doesn't care that he's never set foot on the grass, never seen the flowers that grow there.He doesn't care about any of that, because Remington isn't dead. He knows this.(Chapter 1 to 9 are Palaye Centric. After that it diverges to include other fandoms and characters.)





	1. Winter Comes, Skies To Grey

**Author's Note:**

> I have a discord server that's dying, feel free to join and revive it. Bandom, Homestuck, Buzzfeed Unsolved.  
> https://discord.gg/wF8yCqG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this fic is going to be one hell of a ride, I promise. I've been sitting on this idea for a while now and it has mostly come to me due to Palaye Royale's amazing music videos, more specifically 'You'll Be Fine'. I hope you guys enjoy this and stick around to read each chapter. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE LYRICS NOR DO I OWN PALAYE ROYALE'S NAME. AND I MOST DEFINITELY DO NOT OWN REMINGTON, SEBASTIAN OR EMERSON BECAUSE THEY ARE REAL PEOPLE. 
> 
> Anyway, let's go.
> 
> Chapter Title and lyrics are from Morning Light
> 
> Edit: I've read back through and fixed up a bunch of errors but I will remind you that this is not currently beta read so it's not perfect. Pointing out errors that I miss myself would be really helpful.

The grass is greener here. It shouldn’t be, it feels wrong. It should be brown, dying, dead. Crunching underfoot while the flowers and vines shrivel up and disintegrate. The scorch marks on the edge, between the gravel and the greenery, are the only sign to something hinting at the horrors the land before them has seen. The pain, suffering, and loss.

 

A worn, black hat sits on the back seat of car, wide brim sporting holes and rings whereas around the crown there is a peach coloured ribbon, a feather poking out from between the folds. He takes it in his hands and places his head, ever carefully, before standing straight, one arm on the car door.

 

The elder stays seated, aviators set firmly on the bridge of his nose. His raven black hair carefully styled in a mop top. His arms are almost crossed but not quite, his hands clinging tightly at his arms, knuckles going white.

 

“Come on,” Emerson taps three times on the car, only slightly irritated. Sebastian simply looks forward, giving no indication that he’s heard his brother. His checkered jacket is somewhat rumpled and his lips are turned downward into a frown. “Sebastian. Come _on_.”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“ _Sebastian_.”

 

“I am not going,” He finally speaks. His hands shake as he pulls them away from his arms and places them on the wheel.

 

“You never do.” Emerson sighs, stepping away from the car.

 

“It’s wrong,” Sebastian’s voice cuts through the silence in the air. He clings tightly to the wheel and repeats himself, wavering this time, “It’s wrong.”

 

“When will you just accep-”

 

“I won’t, Emerson.” The brunet scowls. Sebastian keeps going. “I won’t until there’s proof. You can keep making me drive you here, you can keep visiting this awful place but I won’t go with you.”

 

Emerson turns away, brushing stray strands of hair away from his face. He stands for a moment before he starts to walk. “Fine…”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything back. Doesn’t call out, ask for him to stop. He doesn’t follow, he doesn’t even get out of his seat. He never does. They’ve had this argument a hundred times and it always turns out the same; Emerson goes by himself and Sebastian stays in the car, waiting.

 

He doesn’t need any help navigating this place. It’s hauntingly familiar and the thought crosses his mind that it might just be a little grim that he knows his way around. Second from his right, overflowing with colourful flowers, a carved stone sits, stiff in the ground. He knows it’s empty, always has been, but he’s pretty sure it always will be and he has made peace with that fact a long time ago.

 

Sebastian hasn’t.

 

“Hey,” Emerson’s voice comes out quiet, as it always does. “It’s nice to see you again.” No one answers him, but he never expects a response so it doesn't phase him. “Sebastian didn’t come. He doesn’t want to believe it. I know he’s sad.” He kneels, caring little about the minimal amounts of dew covering the grass. He picks a flower, twirling the stem between his thumb and forefinger. “Maybe, one day, he’ll come. I just have to keep trying I guess.”

 

“He’s so tired these days, I can see it. But he’s stopped drinking, been sober since…” Emerson trails off and the flower slips from between his fingers. He pulls his hands up and tucks them behind his neck, securing his already tight ponytail even tighter before dropping his hands to his sides and sitting down, crossing his legs. “I haven’t played since then, but I think I might start soon. Sebastian has been thinking about writing music again. I think he should but I thought to ask you as well. I wanted your permission. I’m sure he does too, even if he won’t say so.”

 

He curls his arms around himself. “I told Sebastian he was free to play his guitar again, as long as he doesn’t start with those songs. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear them again, especially with your voice missing from them. He told me he doesn’t want to, _'not until Rem’s back'_ he said. I hope that doesn’t mean that he’ll never play.”

 

The sky is grey but there is no rain splattering on the ground. The dark clouds wrap around the lighter ones closely, spinning, twisting, and twirling, as if in some sort of elaborate dance. Emerson wants it to rain, he realises. He wants it to pour down on him, soak his tattered hat, white shirt and straight through his vest, wash away the makeup on his face. He dresses up nice on these days when he makes his visits. So does Sebastian, but he doesn’t set foot out of his car so Emerson is unsure as to why he does it.

 

“I really wish it would rain,” He whispers. “Because then your flowers would grow even more. They would shoot straight up, inching closer to the heavens. I can’t remember how long ago I planted them, but I know I did it all by myself. Sebastian couldn’t drive me that day, so I was there, on the bus, with bags full of pre-grown flowers, head down and ankles crossed. I think I might have only been seventeen, it wouldn’t have been long after, but I did it. And now look. Look at how beautiful they are.”

 

“Sebastian won’t come see them, though. It might be a while before he will, but I want him to. I want him to see the flowers I planted for you. I want him to come see _you_. It’s been six years already. Six whole years and he hasn’t gotten out of his car once. He just drives up, we argue and I walk here, by myself.”

 

Emerson sighs, pressing his fingers into the dirt and pushing himself back up until he is standing.

 

“Well, I guess I should go. He’s probably wanting to get back now... Hey, remember that time I stayed for hours, waiting for him to give in and come get me? He never did and I went back. He had just shaken his head.”

 

“So… goodbye then. I promise I’ll come visit soon, you won’t have to wait as long next time.”

 

Emerson steps back and waves ever so slightly before walking away.

 

_Remington Leith Kropp_

_5/5/1994 - 2/5/2013_

_The best brother you could ever have_

 

* * *

 

Sebastian used to like listening to his brother play but now he thinks it’d be just empty sound. Instead, there’s no sound at all. The house is always eerily quiet and Sebastian hates it. All he wants to hear is Remington’s voice. The unique rasp left over from the days where his lisp used to take over his speech.

 

His guitar sits in the corner of the room where he is pointedly _not_ looking at it. Consciously staring forward yet his eyes keep trailing along the wall towards it. His fingers itch to strum the chords. He tightens his fists and looks downwards instead. But it’s there, tormenting him. He can almost hear it, hear Emerson banging his drums as Remington sings. It’s hard not to think about it. It’s always hard to ignore.

 

He twitches more, urging himself to think of something else to do, something other than just sit there. But his schedule is clear, there is nothing to do. So he stays, for a few seconds. And then he stands, walks over and grasps ahold of the neck, tugging it ever so gently off the wall and it fits perfectly in his arms again. He can see it, back when he was eighteen and his brothers and he sat, clustered together as they made music and joked and laughed.

 

Sebastian sets everything up and his fingers pause, hovering over the strings. He’s not sure if he can do this. It’s been so long since he last played that he almost doesn’t know how to anymore. But… he feels like he has to do this.

 

The first few notes from _Morning Light_ and Emerson screams from down the hall. He almost drops the guitar and then sighs, running his hands over his eyes and beginning to take everything apart until all he has to do is put the instrument back in its place. But first, he holds it, cradling it like a baby.

 

He wants to play it, but he can’t.

 

* * *

 

_“We live for, we yearn for,_

_The things that we're born for,_

_Yesterday's today's tomorrow.“_

 

_His voice takes up the whole room. The white walls, ceiling, and floor shake at the sound. The glass on the tiny window cracks. Music is filling his head and he smiles, standing up despite the struggle of the stiff fabric and hooks fastening his arms around him. He makes his way to the broken window and stares at himself for the first time in years._

 

_Moments later his hair is sticking up in the air and his eyes are surrounded by red and black and it feels so good. He can hear it, he can hear the drums and the guitar and he can hear his voice. He can hear his voice and he sings so that his brothers can hear it too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments about what you think. I always answer them.


	2. I'm Gonna Set This House on Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two songs in the chapter are Get Higher and How Do You Do. 
> 
> Chapter Title is from Get Higher.

Darkness is what greets him. He can’t see anything and it’s not quite scaring him as much as it should be. Because, for the lack of sight, there is a lot of sound ringing in his ears. Guitar riffs and a steady drumbeat that is vaguely familiar and comforting and whatever worry he has melts away. 

 

Sebastian would have jumped if he could but as soon as he hears that voice his world just stops. He hates it, he tells himself. But he doesn’t. He loves it, he drinks in the rough and loud voice that just demands to be heard. He’s singing a song Sebastian knows but doesn’t quite remember playing very much. It hadn’t been released, it was something they were working on, not quite perfect but finished enough that it is so clear in his head right now. 

 

He doesn’t know why he can hear it. It has been years since he’s heard that voice. Remington hasn’t haunted his dreams since he first disappeared, but here he was, singing in his ears like he didn’t have a care in the world. Searching for answers, Sebastian comes to the conclusion that it is most likely the fact that he even picked up the guitar is what caused this whole thing. 

It’s not like he’s going to complain too much, he’s missed it so much. He just wishes it would be in real life, not just a memory from years ago. 

 

_ “I get higher, I get higher, _

_ I'm going to set this house on fire, _

_ Shut off the lights I hear your sound, _

_ I'm locking the door as you fall to the ground.” _

 

* * *

Emerson wakes to see Sebastian in a good mood. The elder brother is reasonably airy and bright but his fingers twitch to play. Guilt starts to settle in his stomach as he remembers the day before, where he’d screamed at Sebastian when his brother had played the guitar for the first time in just under six years. 

 

“Hey,” Emerson ends up catching his brother from where he was rushing about. “I-I’m sorry about yesterday.” Sebastian just raises his eyebrows. “For yelling at you,” Emerson explains. “I… you can play any tune you want, I won’t stop you.” Sebastian just smiles and lets out a light chuckle, stepping away from the other. 

 

“It’s fine, Em. Don’t worry about it.”

 

Emerson leaves it at that. All day he’s preoccupied with reading and possible job opportunities that he doesn’t even have a chance to speak to Sebastian until he hears music coming from down the hall. He follows the sound to find Sebastian playing through the first verse of  _ Get Higher _ with a stiff grip and a small frown on his face. When he reaches the chorus he stops, letting the guitar hang as he runs his fingers through his hair. Emerson chooses this moment to step inside. 

 

“You okay?” Sebastian pretends not to hear him. He starts again and Emerson leans against the wall, closing his eyes. Sebastian gets halfway through the second verse when he has to stop again, cutting off so suddenly that it shocks Emerson into opening his eyes.

 

“I can’t,” Sebastian mumbles and lets his hands flop downwards. Emerson comes closer as he speaks up, louder this time. “I can’t do this.”

 

“You can,” Emerson goes and places his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. The elder brother lets out a slow sigh. “You’re doing so well. I think I could even…” Emerson hesitates and Sebastian chuckles ever so softly. 

 

“If I can try, so can you.” Sebastian then brushes his hands off on his jacket and tugs the strap of his guitar over his head, placing the instrument back in its rightful place. “Come on… what time is it? Three? Wanna get coffee?” Emerson smiles at this. 

 

“Sure.”   
  


* * *

_ “ _ _ The sun is shining I'm on fire, _

_ I walk the streets I hear no sounds, _

_ My shiny blue eyes turn to painful brown,” _

 

Remington’s voice is intoxicating and Sebastian’s glad that the whole hearing Rem's voice wasn’t just a one-off thing. He thinks he could play it fully in the morning, but it’s just a thought and he’s not quite sure how easy it’ll be to get through the whole thing without pausing. After getting just halfway it feels like he’s run a marathon. But he’s pretty sure he could get Emerson to play something with him at least once. 

 

But, when he’s awake, Remington’s voice is just an echo of the past and he hates that. It’s horrible to think about and so instead he thinks of the day that maybe, just maybe, he’ll see that grinning face again. 

 

As Sebastian is about to drift away again, Remington finishes and everything goes deathly quiet for a second before a new tune seeps out of the shadows. 

 

_ “Good morning, _

_ How do you do? _

_ I've been up all night looking for you so take me where you want to go.” _

 

It’s a song he’s never heard before. Different and new and yet Remington sounds right at home in it. The rasp in his voice is a defined sound as if he’d been practicing from when Sebastian had last heard his voice in person. The beat is catchy and the lyrics are carefully and beautifully constructed. 

 

He doesn’t remember writing it or Remington ever singing it but it’s all Sebastian hears. Beats and riffs and strumming and lyrics and so he listens carefully, trying to commit everything to memory, lest he forgets something important. It’s refreshing to hear his brother sing something brand new and he’s scared to question it, as if doing so would rid him of the sound altogether.   

 

He throws himself forward in a rush, longing to hear more. Sweat shines on his skin and his hair is a mess. He finds his fingers twitching again and he throws off the covers, sliding out of bed and fumbling with the junk on his desk to find a piece of paper and a pencil. All night Sebastian writes and by the morning he is slumped over his desk, sleeping softly. 

 

* * *

“You look like shit,” Emerson says as soon as he sees his brother. Sebastian has bags under his eyes and his hair is knotted and greasy. But his eyes shine with new hope and he looks happy, exhausted but happy, almost proud of himself. Emerson runs his fingers along the bench as Sebastian goes about getting something to eat. “What happened?”

 

Sebastian pauses and unhooks his fingers from the handle of the cupboard door which swings shut silently. He then steps towards Emerson, feet shifting ever so slowly, and makes his way out of the kitchen, beckoning Emerson to follow. The younger brother does, but not without hesitation because he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get why. 

 

The ravenette leads him to his room where a flurry of papers are spread across his desk, scribbles covering each one. When Emerson gets closer, he realises that it’s not just a jumble of lines and shapes on the papers but actually words and notes. Music. He picks a piece up, lyrics written in a rushed manner as if he just had to get them down before he forgot them.

 

He turns back to Sebastian with the paper in hand and Sebastian smiles a tired smile before rubbing his eyes. Emerson cracks his own grin and waves the paper about. 

 

“Oh my god, this is amazing. Does it have a name?"

 

* * *

_ Far away from them, the last Kropp brother joins them in their glee. Even as water begins to climb up his legs and swallow the room, he sings and laughs and cackles and his eyes look upwards at black box in the corner of the room, crazed and wild, and he flashes it a wicked smirk before continuing his solo melody.  _

 

_ “Everybody is dancing now, _

_ Everybody's dancing now, baby, _

_ Everybody's dancing now, _

_ Dance, dance, dance the night away.” _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, hopefully the next one will be longer.


	3. They’re Coming After Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 1700 words yay. I'm pretty happy with this chapter, hope you are too.
> 
> Title and lyrics are from Mr. Doctor Man

_ “Let me go. Let me go.  _ **_Let me go!_ ** _ ”  _

 

_ He screams and screams and screams and no one answers. He wants to get out, be free. He wants his brothers, he wants to see their faces and hear their voices. He wants to go home. He really, really wants to go home.  _

 

_ “Please.” He whines, lowering himself to the ground while tears begin to create tracks down his cheeks. “Please, just let me  _ **_go_ ** _.”  _

 

_ They won’t listen. They can’t hear him. He tries and tries and tries and they won’t even fucking listen. He wants them to listen, to hear his pleas. He just wants to go home.  _

 

_ He can’t, he realises. And so he sobs, loud and cracking and his voice is scratchy and wilder than it ever has been and makeup runs from his eyes and covers his face and he shakes and cries and screams. The world tilts and he feels his head hit the ground, white stained with black.  _

 

_ “H-help me.” It’s so quiet, his voice, choked up and yet the walls shake at the sound. “Please.” _

 

_ Nothing. There’s no one. No one to help him. No one to save him. He can’t do this. He doesn’t deserve this. No one deserves this.  _

 

_ “ _ _ Chemically, it's running through my veins you see?  _

_ Romance of the plastic scenes, _

_ I can't see you breathe, _

_ They're coming after me.” _

 

* * *

__

Emerson likes playing the drums. He always has. Except, he doesn’t play anymore. He lets them sit there, collecting dust, and goes about his day ignoring them completely. The photographs of Remington are all ignored as well, faced downward. Emerson doesn’t want them to sit like that but with Sebastian there, he can’t do much else. 

 

The only one he can see is standing in his room. It’s a picture of all three of them, from back when Emerson was thirteen and the three of them were smiling, innocent kids. Remington had just turned sixteen and Sebastian was almost eighteen and they were joking and grinning and they had a hand tightly clamped on both of Emerson’s shoulders from where he was in the middle. 

 

His drumsticks, the ones Remington bought him when they were even younger, lie in front of the frame, polished wood shining in the morning sun. Remington had secretly saved some of his allowance to buy them, spending what a fourteen-year-old would consider a lot on them. On Emerson. At the time he had smiled and laughed and thanked Remington continuously before rushing off to use them. Now they just sit there, clean from dust but unused and carefully placed. Every time he looks at them and the photo and just the two paired together, Emerson has to fight the urge to cry. 

 

And every time, he loses the battle. 

 

A stray tear escapes his eye and he brushes it away, fixing his hat on his head and stalking out of the room, kicking away objects that had been carelessly tossed to the ground. His boots click quietly on the carpet and loudly on the wooden floors.

 

“Ready?” 

 

Sebastian looks up when Emerson enters, hands rifling through mounds of papers and books and stationery. It’s quite surprising to see him as put together as he is because for the last few days he’d been messy, exhausted and had slept most nights slumped over his desk, pen still clutched between his fingers. 

 

“Yeah, just need one more thing.” He rips a page out from under the rest and folds it up neatly, sliding it gently into his pocket. He then gives Emerson a smile, walking to the door and having Emerson follow him out to the car. 

 

While the breeze is blowing through his hair, Emerson looks over at the driver's seat and is just about to speak when Sebastian beats him to it.    
  


“Thanks. For doing this I mean.”

 

Emerson chuckles and shakes his head, tilting it downward. “You’re finally getting back into your music, why wouldn’t I be helping you?” Sebastian simply shrugs. 

 

* * *

_ The bus jolts to a stop and another passenger gets on. He has four more stops before he reaches his and it’s a little jarring to be out by himself. He’s not yet used to it, seeing as he’d always had one of his brothers by his side. He’s a little lonely too, but Sebastian’s busy and Remington- yeah, let’s not go there.  _

 

_ A woman sits one seat down from him and stares for a moment. He gives her a polite smile and unconsciously pulls the bags of pre-grown flowers closer to his hanging legs.  _

 

_ “What are those for?” _

 

_ “My brother,” he says, voice almost a whisper, looking down.  _

 

_ “Oh! For his garden?” Of course she’d assume that. Assume anything but the real thing, people don’t like to think about kids or teenagers being buried and their families visiting them, no matter how true it can be.  _

 

_ “For his grave actually,” he gives her and she looks uncomfortable, awkward, and he feels responsible for that. At least she’ll stop talking to him now. Others give him nervous looks and he bites his lip.  _

 

_ Another stop, another stop, another- _

 

_ “Stop!” He cries out and everyone stares at him. He pulls one of his hands up to his face and presses his knuckles into his cheek as he curls in on himself. Some tears break free from his eyes and he scrubs them away before standing, slightly red from his outburst, and waits right by the door. The bus finally slows to a stop and he is the first off, half walking and half running to get away.  _

 

_ It’s not actually that close to the bus stop but he still makes it there in what he sees as a blink of an eye. He muddles his way down rows and rows until he finds the right one. Remington’s name is inscribed beautifully but grass has begun to climb the sides of the gravestone. He scrapes it away and slowly, carefully, begins to plant the flowers right by the name.  _

 

_ His hands are filthy and there’s grime underneath his fingernails when he’s done but he doesn’t care. Because there are pretty flowers planted in the ground above where his brother might’ve laid if his body had ever been returned. Remington would like them, the different colours and shades. He would love them.  _

 

_ Emerson hopes he does, if he can even see them.  _

 

_ “Hi, Rem. I bought you a present, or several I mean. I picked them out, especially for you. Thought you might like everything to be a little more colourful.” He laughs and it comes out choked and the next words are clunky and broken. “I-I guess you’re pretty lonely, just like me. But at least I have Sebastian, even if he acts like a completely different person. I just wish you really were here.” _

 

_ He crumbles, his knees to his chin, and he falls sideways. He’s crying, he knows that, but it’s just empty. Empty tears, empty thoughts.  _

 

_ Everything is empty, the grave, the sky. His heart.  _

 

* * *

__

Rem’s singing again and, as always, it sounds beautiful. It’s always a new song, every night. He doesn’t understand why. Why these new songs appear in his head, why Remington is still singing them. Why they just sound right. 

 

_ “Honestly it’s running through my veins you see, _

_ I don’t need their surgeries, _

_ I just want to be, _

_ But they are coming after me.” _

 

Sometimes the words make sense, but the meanings always elude him. Emerson asks him what they mean and he doesn’t have an answer. He hates when Emerson questions who will sing them. Remington will, of course. Or, that’s what Sebastian tells himself. He’s honestly not sure if Remington is even still alive, despite what he says. While current circumstances could point towards that being the case, he’s still not completely sure. 

 

But a part of him knows it’s real. So he’s listening to that part and that part only. He will get his brother back, no matter what. 

 

When he wakes, he writes everything down and the lyrics tumble from his mouth as he does so. They don’t sound right, coming from his lips, carried by his voice. They are perfect in his dreams, when Rem sings them loudly and purposefully, with his unique quirks and confidence. He wants to hear it in person again, out loud again. 

 

* * *

They don’t keep much alcohol in the house anymore, a few bottles of gin and maybe some whiskey down the back. Emerson doesn’t like the stuff and Sebastian’s sworn off it the day Rem was pronounced dead. That doesn’t stop Emerson from worrying that his elder brother will one day take one look at the bottles and drink until he can’t anymore. 

 

What he doesn’t realise when he gets home, late and feeling guilty for leaving Sebastian all alone, is that the day he had always worried about has come to pass. 

 

Bottles are lined up on the counter in the kitchen, which is his first clue that something is up. He immediately calls out, voice echoing down the hall. “Sebastian?” He walks across the wooden floor, some boards creaking in as he does so. Sebastian’s door is hanging open. His steps are hesitant as he makes his way inside and immediately his face loses all its colour. 

 

On the ground, his brother lies, spilt alcohol and bile soaking the carpet around him. A smashed bottle is inches from his hand, pieces littered about. His eyes are half closed and his face is a mess of tear tracks and the occasional bloody smear from one of his palms, which, while isn’t currently bleeding, is covered in the sticky liquid. He doesn’t respond when Emerson calls his name or when he shakes roughly at his shoulders. 

 

“Sebastian, answer me!” He presses his fingers to Sebastian’s neck like he’s seen done in the movies and feels for a pulse. It’s there, but weak and panic makes his fingers shake as he dials the emergency services. He continues to freak out long after the ambulance has arrived but as a paramedic wraps a shock blanket around his shoulders and leads him out into the cold, all he can think of is Remington’s voice singing in the back of his head. 

 

A hospital window shatters when he wakes up from his place in the waiting room and he chooses to ignore the fact that the two events happen concurrently. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think in the comments.


	4. Leave The Living For Today, And Dying For Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little shorter this time, but I promise there will be more soon. Somewhat of a transition chapter but also somewhat plot heavy. 
> 
> Chapter title and lyrics are from Hospital Beds
> 
> Not yet beta read

_ He is just innocently singing to himself when it happens. A new concept for a song and he is testing out the vocals. Nothing major, nothing out of the ordinary.  _

 

_ The picture frame by his bed explodes. Glass flies across the room and wood splinters. The paper flutters uselessly to the ground and, stunned, Remington drops his notes and stares, voice cutting off. Next, the radio does the same, pieces splitting apart and crashing against the wall. He holds his hands up in surrender and nothing happens.  _

 

_ He lets out a relieved sigh, still somewhat in shock. He stands and stumbles back towards the door. Reaching out for the door handle, he feels a sudden surge of fear and sharp cracks begin to appear in his window. He runs out but he can hear the window shatter from where he is in the hall. Emerson and Sebastian poke their heads out and stare at him.  _

 

_ “What happened?” The elder asks. _

 

_ “I don’t know,” Remington’s voice is shaky. “Maybe the window had a large crack in it or something, one we couldn’t see.” _

 

_ Emerson shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to get someone to fix it.” Remington nods quickly.  _

 

_ “Yep.” _

 

* * *

__

Light, that’s what he sees. He can see light, which is a first. Usually, his dreams are dark, where he can’t even see his own feet, but now it’s black boots and pants and a grey suit jacket and waistcoat. A purple scarf sits snugly around his neck as well and he’s in a room he’s never seen before, dim yellow lighting and brick pillars surround him.

 

In front of him, are a pair of closed curtains. They’re red and thick yet when he touches them, they’re soft and light. He carefully throws them open and there’s a couch, a dull mix of gold and brown. Behind it is a large rectangular frame and mirror. 

 

But what really catches his eye is the figure seated there on the couch, head tilted in surprise. He is clothed in black and white stripes, a deep red surrounding his eyes and his black hair sticking straight up. And it’s- it’s...

 

It’s his brother. It’s Remington. It really is. Older and wiser and giving him an empty, airy yet stunned smile. It’s barely a tilt of his lips but Sebastian smiles back in return. Remington rises from his seat, footsteps heavy as he takes each downward step one at a time. He reaches Sebastian and takes the elder’s hand in his own.

 

Sebastian finds he can’t speak. No words can come out of his mouth but laughter does. Remington grins as a piano starts up out of sight. 

 

_ “Hello, my friend, _

_ I'm gonna be here 'til the end, _

_ Of the universe, if I can, _

_ I wanna fly, up in the sky, sky, sky.” _

 

Remington starts to dance as he sings, Sebastian following his lead. They dance together in a room illuminated by golden lights and full of antique furniture and ancient wallpaper. And he loves it. He loves listening to Remington’s voice, loves seeing his grown-up face. Remington then brakes away and now they’re dancing by themselves. The tune is catchy and he makes another mental note to write the whole thing down when he gets the chance. Remington spins on his heels and laughs before he continues to sing and Sebastian finds himself knowing the words and singing along.

 

_ “Behind the curtain, she's staring at my grave, _

_ She slowly dances on her hospital bed, hospital bed.”  _

 

* * *

__

Emerson’s neck aches and his back hurts when he wakes up. He blinks and sees Sebastian resting quietly in bed with his eyes shut and face relaxed. The faint beeping of the heart monitor is ringing in his ears and he sits up in the hospital chair, body creaking in protest. His fingers intertwine with his brother’s and he leans forward, pulling both Sebastian’s hand and his own towards his head and fitting them under his chin, closing his eyes again. 

 

He immediately opens them again when he feels movement on the bed. Sebastian’s eyes are cracked open and his expression twists into one of confusion. Emerson pulls away, filled to the brim with relief. 

 

“Sebastian,” He breathes. “You’re awake.”

 

Sebastian lets out an exhausted sigh, shaking his head. “I am.”

 

The younger Kropp brother scowls. “How dare you.” He hisses. Sebastian simply lies back, resigned to listen. “How dare you do that. You’re all I have left.” He doesn’t know when the tears started but right now he doesn’t care. “I can’t- I can’t believe you would…”

 

Sebastian closes his eyes and rests his head on the pillow. “Hospital?” His voice is quiet. 

 

“Yeah,” His response is curt, somewhat cold. Sebastian groans and rubs his face and eyes, wincing when he pulls on the needles in his arm. 

 

“Fuck. That bad, huh?”

 

“That bad? Yes, it was that bad. It was fucking awful. How could you do that?”

 

All he gets is a small shrug. 

 

“You could have died if I hadn’t found you in time. I was so scared, Sebastian. I don’t want to lose you too.” Emerson catches Sebastian’s arm and presses it against his face. The elder doesn’t do anything to stop him. 

 

“Sorry,” Sebastian leans forward and moves his arm away, pressing his own forehead against his little brother's. “I’m really sorry.” They sit in silence for a bit. 

 

“Why? Why did you do it?”

 

Sebastian bites his lip and looks away. He doesn’t speak. 

 

“Sebastian?”

 

“Rem… It... I thought…” Sebastian struggles to gather his thoughts into a coherent sentence. “I-I don’t know.” He falls limp onto the pillow, groaning. “God, fuck, my head hurts.”

 

Emerson laughs and somewhere down the hall, a heart starts to beat again.

 

* * *

“You aren't allowed to go anywhere without me,” Emerson tells Sebastian when he is discharged. He has changed into a black shirt and some dark jeans whereas Emerson still has the rumpled clothes and smudged makeup from yesterday. It occurs to him that the vision of Remington and the Emerson right in front of him wear their makeup almost the same. 

 

It’s scary how similar they are.

 

“Gotcha.”  

 

Sebastian flicks off the radio about ten minutes into their drive and instead hums out the new song Remington was singing. By the time they’re nearly home he’s gone through it about five times and Emerson is looking at him curiously. 

 

“What’re you humming?”

 

“Hospital Beds,” He says without even thinking and Emerson creases his brow. 

 

“Hospital Beds?”

 

“New song.” Sebastian then turns to look out the window, returning to humming. 

 

When they’re home, Sebastian is immediately setting up his guitar and plucking out the melody. He already has it memorised as well as most of the lyrics. He starts to sing some of them but they mostly drift off into a low murmur. Emerson stands in the doorway and listens quietly, a smile on his face but worry in his eyes. 

 

* * *

_ Remington smiles, really smiles, because he saw his brother. He finally saw his big brother again. He got to sing and dance and just be there with his big brother. All he needs now is to see his little brother.  _

 

_ He has little room to move, no light to speak of, and so, as he curls up with his knees tight to his chest, he keeps thinking of his brothers and the songs that he sings and how nice it’ll be to reunite with them.  _

 

_ “No, I can't tell you how to say goodbye, _

_ 'Cause I've been waiting most of my life, _

_ Behind the curtain, she's staring at my grave, _

_ She slowly dances on her hospital bed, hospital bed…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Next chapter shouldn't take too much time.


	5. Baby I Die When I Want To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this might be the last one for a while. I was going to write the next one for a creative writing piece but since that might take a while I have to think of if I'll do it by itself or not. 
> 
> Chapter title is from Warhol and lyrics are from Clockwork, Primary Propaganda and Warhol. 
> 
> Over 1600 words, which is good for me.

_ It keeps happening. The whole, things breaking around him randomly. Every time he freaks the fuck out and every time his brothers don’t seem to notice much. He’s had to secretly replace four different photo frames and six different cups. He knows he can’t keep doing this, but he has no other option. Just fix whatever breaks and pray that the whole thing goes away.  _

 

_ It doesn’t.  _

 

_ Sebastian notices when his favourite teacup is placed on the highest shelf, far away from Remington. He’d been super careful when he’d moved it too, refusing to let the thing shatter. His brother questions him but he shrugs him off, trying not to think of it.  _

 

_ He keeps hoping and hoping the whole thing will go away, continuously ignoring it until it comes back and smacks him in the face again. Again and again and again.  _

 

_ When he traverses the street like a normal kid of his age would, he doesn’t expect what happens. He doesn’t expect to be ripped away from the sidewalk and dragged down an alley with his mouth covered. Nor does he expect the way the light bulbs in the street lights smash and cracks appear in the concrete. The sky darkens and the faint rumble of thunder rages in his ears as he tries and tries to get away. Car alarms go off, the ground shakes and then everything goes black.  _

 

_ “Light bulbs break down your wicker stair,  _

_ You can’t see me behind your black hair.  _

_ But I want you, _

_ I want to take you home.” _

 

* * *

__

The feather duster is not something he uses often but he finds it extremely useful. It sweeps off the dust and he vacuums the particles up as quickly as he can as to not make himself cough. Sebastian is still resting and he doesn’t want him to worry. 

 

Emerson lets himself shed a tear before he picks up the two wooden sticks from his nightstand and sits down, beginning by quietly tapping them against various surfaces. An old tune makes its way into his head and, instead of trying to shake it, he embraces it and lets it guide him. The beats get louder and he hits harder and starts to feel better. 

 

So much better. 

 

He doesn’t even notice when Sebastian slips inside his room, nor when the other comes closer to stand beside him. He doesn’t notice until his elder brother taps his shoulder. He stops, midair, and his neck nearly snaps with how fast he turns his head. Sebastian smirks and helps Emerson up from his seat. 

 

“Sounds like you were having fun.”

 

Emerson laughs at that. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time.” He places the drum sticks down on his desk, carefully, always carefully, and almost skips to the door, airy and freer than ever. Sebastian follows him out. 

 

“Can we go out?” He asks and Emerson nods, stuffing his feet into a pair of shoes left down the hallway. Sebastian leaves to tidy his hair in the mirror as he laces the boots. Sebastian then returns from the bathroom no different than when he left, though a frown has crept onto his face. It deepens as Emerson locks up and they head out. 

 

“What?”

 

“I hate this.”

 

“Hate what?”

 

“Having to have permission to leave the house, no drinking, constant supervision.”

 

“You weren’t drinking beforehand,” Emerson tells him as they walk. “Plus, you know exactly why this whole thing has been put in place.”

 

Sebastian crosses his arms. “We’re not talking about that.”

 

“Ever?”

 

The elder Kropp brother groans and stares at his feet, letting his arms flop forward. “I don’t know, maybe?”

 

Emerson doesn’t question him more and Sebastian doesn’t elaborate nor attempt to explain. They make their way down the street in silence, arms swinging left and right. Emerson flicks his gaze at his brother for a second before he looks at the ground and follows his shadow. 

 

* * *

Remington can see his big brother again. He's still the same Sebastian he grew up with, just years older and wearier, tired and weathered. But his eyes are bright, especially when he sees the younger boy. Remington springs forward and wraps his arms around Sebastian, hugging him tightly. Sebastian slides his arms around Remington in return. 

 

Sebastian doesn’t speak, but as he pulls back, his expression tells him many things. His big brother is confused. His face says that he doesn’t know how he got here, of what’s happening. Sebastian doesn’t know why he can see Remington right in front of him. See his little brother right in front of him when they’re both sleeping, one soundly, one restlessly. 

 

He wants to tell him. He wants to explain so much. He wants to tell him about the broken plates and bent street lamps and thunderstorms. So, with his elevated boots sinking into the rug beneath them and his tartan jean/suit jacket combo fitting snuggly around him, he tries to speak. He tries so hard to talk to his brother. 

 

Instead, a song comes out. 

 

_ “Talking minds are on the floor.” _

 

He cuts himself off and tries again. 

 

_ “Never know what to listen for, _

_ As the lines light the floor, _

_ Arrows point to the hidden door.” _

 

Sebastian stares in confusion as Remington keeps cutting off. All he wants to do is talk, tell his brother he loves him, ask him to save him, cry for freedom. He wants to be free, he’s never been this close before. He wants his brothers.

 

He really just wants them there, with him. 

 

He knows he’s sleeping in icy water, freezing and trapped as he rests his head on one of the four white walls keeping him in, the others barely a foot away in each direction. It’s hard to move so Remington just sleeps. He just sleeps, dreaming of his brothers. Dreaming of seeing Sebastian again. Now he’s here. 

 

He can see his brother again. But he can’t talk to him. He can’t speak, only sing. He needs to talk, he needs to take this opportunity, to seek freedom, to remind Sebastian that this isn’t just a fever dream, that this is real in some capacity, that Remington is really here, needing help, needing saving. 

 

He tries again, even harder. He attempts to form coherent words yet only lyrics leave his tongue. Lyrics to songs he knows even though he’s never written them, never played them. He knows these ones, knows they’re his. But he doesn’t want to hear them. He wants to hear himself speak, his voice in all it’s harsh, broken glory. It has gone hoarse from all the screaming, all the shouting. 

 

_ “You find yourself, _

_ Trapped in a room, _

_ With somebody else, _

_ Don’t want to hurt you.” _

 

He doesn’t realise when he starts crying, only when there are teardrops falling off his nose and dripping onto his top lip, salty and tasting slightly of makeup. There must be red stains down his face now but he can’t bring himself to stop. He can’t. Sebastian looks alarmed and quickly guides his sobbing brother to the ground, curling protectively around him. 

 

Remington can’t even see Seb face through the blur and it makes everything worse. He can feel the cold inching up to his chin, he can feel the hard wall against his head, but he can feel his brother’s warm arms and chest, can feel the clothes he wears and the rings on his fingers. He wants to stay, stay wrapped up safely in his big brother’s arms without any worries. 

 

But he also wants Emerson. He wants his baby brother to be there with his grinning smile and cheerful giggle, his partner in crime. He can imagine Emmy in the room with them, sitting on the floor, spread out, with his hands clinging tightly to the ornate rugs and his head lolling to the side. 

 

He shudders as he imagines this. Because all he can see is a sixteen-year-old Emerson, when in reality he’s actually twenty-two. Remington hasn’t thought of the years that have gone by. He’s always cried on one of their birthdays but it has never truly sunk in. The man in front of him is almost twenty-seven. He’s almost twenty-five. 

 

They were going to get their middle names on their arms for Emerson’s eighteenth, weren’t they. He wonders if they did that. How much had they missed? How much had he missed? What could they have had?

 

He cries harder and Sebastian holds him tighter. Once his tears have dried up, his big brother loosens his grip a little and Remington tries to speak again, hopes pretty much diminished and, scared, he speaks slowly. 

 

“S-Sebastian…” His heart speeds up and he can feel the cold again but he focuses, focuses so hard on his big brother. Sebastian’s eyes widen and Remington keeps going, pushing. “You-you’re here…” 

 

A large grin spreads itself across Sebastian’s lips and he opens his mouth a little, ready to try himself. It comes out deep and sharp and so, so familiar. 

 

“Remmy.” He rubs his hand up and down Remington’s spine carefully. 

 

“H-help me… please,” he whimpers and his toes begin to go numb and the warmth of his brother begins to distance itself from him. “Help… help me.”

 

“How?” Panic has settled in Sebastian’s facial features, twisting them weirdly. 

 

“My-” He’s getting further and further away. He can hear someone shouting, can hear hushed voices nearby. He can hear water sloshing about, can feel his head bumping against the wall as they move. But he grits his teeth, determined, and mutters out the last few words. “Grav-” 

 

He jolts awake to darkness and he is cold, so cold. 

 

“Sebby…”

 

_ “Because I got no place to go. _

_ So take me.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	6. Moonchild Won’t See Another Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I took so long. I'm using this for my creative writing and so I was only allowed to write while in class. This got to 1700 words, which is funny because he'd said to try not to go over 1000. I sent it to him and waited for him to see the word count and his reaction was hilarious. 
> 
> Chapter Title and lyrics are from Love The Void

 

_ “ _ _ Love the void, my friend, _

_ You don't know where it ends.” _

 

* * *

__

The void is something familiar to him. Drifting in endless space, it’s something he finds oddly comforting. Dreams alude him, instead floating just out of arm's length. He's used to nights where the moon attempts to pierce the veil of his curtains but he sleeps comfortably in the darkness. It feels like he should be uncomfortable, though. It’s cold, his clothing is stiff - his fault really, too tired to change, to exhausted to care - and the absence of a blanket is throwing him off his mark. It’s surreal, the peace he finds, and it’s the best sleep he’s had in weeks, months, maybe years since the world ended. Figuratively, yet it might as well have.

 

He jerks forward and something’s wrong. Something is very wrong. There’s an odd hum echoing in his ears, the ground shuddering ever so slightly before he is thrown back again and the noise gets louder. He’s not lying down, he’s not in his bed. He’s seated, his legs carefully tucked together with ankles crossed underneath a table of some kind. His hands sit in his lap, with a furry brim caught between his fingers. Every so often his feet clink against a pair of what he assumes are shoes, laces tickling his sliver of bare skin between his pants and socks.  

 

He’s hesitant to open his eyes, scared of what he might see. Lurching forward, he decides  _ ‘screw it’ _ and points his head downwards as he gets his first glimpse at his current situation. There is rough, thin carpet covering the ground beneath him. It’s not a table but a dashboard in front of him. He raises his gaze to the window in front of him, ashy grey sky casting a shadow over him, the first glimmer of peachy tones inch just above the horizon. Harsh lights of unnatural colours break the uneasy peace, red and then green as he is thrown back again. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, a figure sits on his right. Hands, somewhat older and much more jittery than his own, clutch tightly to the handle, twisting when necessary and he can feel himself jerk to the small movements. He reaches up, unsure, and rubs sleep out of his eyes, makeup smearing on his palms. He probably looks like a mess but he doesn’t have it in him to care at the moment, more concerned with his current circumstances.

 

A faint humming comes from the person next to him, shakey, and it echoes in his head as something familiar yet not at the same time. Nervous yet curious he directs his line of sight to the mystery driver’s face, finding himself making eye contact with a sharp gaze and lips turned downward into a scowl. Everything is a little fuzzy still so he blinks a few times, willing himself to recognise the other. 

 

“Sebastian?” His voice is a mumble, barely audible, but the driver glances over at him. But it is Sebastian, his big brother, he’s sure of it. “Is this… What’s going on?” On the other side of the glass, the world is a continuous stream of green, not unlike the plant infested place he calls home. The city has passed and now he is heading down a road which is slowly becoming uncomfortably familiar. 

 

Beside him, Sebastian turns the wheel, whispering to himself in a soft voice, repeating some sort of mantra which he can’t hear. He straightens his posture and holds out his hand, hesitant, and places it on the other’s shoulder. To his credit, he barely flinches, keeping his focus on the road. 

 

“Sebastian,” he repeats, louder this time, firmer. “What are you doing?”. The driver inclines his head towards him and finally speaks. 

 

“I’m driving, Emerson, what does it look like?” Sebastian then moves his gaze out the window, tapping roughly against the steering wheel as they skid to a halt, slamming on the break. He clicks the gear into neutral and cuts the gas. The shudder underneath him stops and Sebastian forcibly rips the hat away from Emerson’s grasp and shoves it on his brother’s head before gesturing to the boots at his feet. 

 

“Sebastian…” He watches his brother with somewhat of a glazed expression as he hurriedly laces up the shoes and wraps his hand around the plastic door handle, pausing before he steps out into the grass. It’s longer than he’s used to, wet dew brushing against the suede fabric encasing his feet, making the rough fur slick with water. Sebastian stands up, brushing off his striped suit, bright red and navy blue standing out among the greens and greys, and takes a few hesitant steps away from the car, swinging the car door shut silently. 

 

It takes a few minutes for him to realise where he is. When he does, sadness, confusion and relief overwhelms him. He feels sick with emotion. He meets Sebastian’s line of sight and his brother’s eyes are glassy and he finds pure terror deep inside. He braces himself on the roof of the car and waits for the other’s first move. What he doesn’t expect is for his brother to go sprinting down the well defined rows, stumbling and almost falling before he rights himself and keeps going and it reminds Emerson of a newborn deer, long limbs and hurried steps as it struggles to keep up. 

 

Eventually Sebastian stops, crumbling to his knees in front of a very familiar patch of grass. He’s kneeling, sitting back on his feet, placing his elbows on his thighs and digging his palms into his eyes even as liquid slides past them, leaving marks on his cheekbones and gathering at his chin. Emerson sinks to the ground beside him, trying to avoid looking forward and instead pointedly facing downwards. 

 

Placing his hands in the dirt, flower stems tickle at his fingers whereas the bulbs caress his bare wrists and soak his cuffs. Soft, choked sobs tether him to conscious thought when he almost drifts off and he sighs, low and deep. He knew this would happen. Eventually. He just wished he had been given a little more warning. As the years went by, the hope that they could move past everything, and this is possibly the first sign pointing to progress. Aside from the whole drinking himself into a coma fiasco Emerson had had to deal with. Sebastian always had been unpredictable and spontaneous, but at least that had remained a constant through everything that had happened. 

 

“Seb,” he starts. Wimpers cut off. “Why are we here?” 

 

Sebastian doesn’t speak for a few minutes, as if he’s unsure himself of what had been running through his mind when he’d decided this impromptu kidnapping was a good idea. He then reaches forward and places his hand against the stone, tracing the engraving slowly with his fingers. It’s the first time he’s seen it, the first time in the whole six years it’s been there. His voice is timid when he opens his mouth, “I… he told me to.” 

 

“Who?” 

 

“Rem.” Emerson catches Sebastian’s arm as soon as the word leaves his mouth. 

 

“Say that again.”   
  


“Remmy, he talked to me.” Sebastian hangs his head. The younger brother just grits his teeth.

 

“He  _ talked _ to you? Sebastian, you are aware of where we are, right?” He gestures in front of him before crossing his arms. His hat catches in the wind, a feather dangerously dangling over the edge, close to falling off. He can hear nothing but their breathing and he takes in his brother’s face, tired and weary. But there is a certain spark in his eyes and Emerson feels his hopes diminish.  

 

“I am,” he’s staring now, at the little violets, purple, pink, red. He picks one and Emerson winces, he’d put a lot of effort into planting those, using his own two hands to dig up the soil. “It’s stupid. This place.”

 

“This is  _ stupid? _ ” Emerson scowls, wiping his wet fingers on his jacket before catching his brother’s shoulder and forcing him to turn. “Sebastian, we are sitting here, right in front of our  _ dead _ brother, someone we grew up with, cared for, loved. And it’s  _ stupid? _ ”  

 

“Yes,” Sebastian spits back, using as much venom as Emerson had. But the younger brother holds his tongue, aware of how quickly this could turn south. It’d be better to hear the man out. “I’d pull them all out if it wouldn’t upset him.” He tucks the stem behind his ear, plucking another and doing the same. 

 

“You think he can see them?”

 

“Not yet, but I’ll bring him here. When I save him,” he whispers, sighing. “He was asking for help.” 

 

This is bad. This is very bad. Emerson thought he was getting better. He thought…

 

He thought they could move on from this. That things were looking up. But no, it’s still the same. Still the same as at the funeral, when Emerson stood up by himself and caught the look on Sebastian’s face, the impatient frown, and finally realised that his brother wasn’t fighting the grief, wasn’t putting up a facade for his baby brother. No, it was that he felt no grief, felt nothing. 

 

Because he was stuck in denial. He didn’t believe anything, even as people told him that it was okay to show that he was upset, that it was okay to break down. He refuses to believe, no matter what Emerson says. No matter what anyone does. 

 

“He can’t ask for help, Seb,” Emerson says, dejected yet resigned. It won’t help, nothing will. “You can’t save him, because there’s nothing left to save. Because he’s dead, Sebastian. He’s gone.” 

 

“Shut up,” Sebastian hisses back, pulling away. “Shut.  _ Up _ .” 

 

“Sebastian.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Listen!” Emerson growls. “I don’t care what you think, Remington is dead, Sebastian. Maybe not here.” He points to his heart. “But he’s gone. And he’s not coming back.” Standing, he looks down at his brother, who is staring at the ground as fresh tears splatter on the already wet grass, and he shakes his head. 

 

“Emmy…” Sebastian begins but Emerson just walks away. He gets a few feet away when Sebastian calls out to him. “Emmy, you don’t really believe that do you? There’s nothing, Emerson. Nothing!” He screams out the last word before choked sobs escape from his lungs. “He’s…” Sebastian whines. “He’s still…”

 

“I’ll see you in the car. Don’t take too long.” Emerson’s voice is cold, arms crossed as he trudges down the familiar path. He hates it here. 

 

Yet, he also loves it. 

 

* * *

_ “I'm finding God in hospitals, _

_ Wild things in wicked walls, _

_ Wake up you'll be just fine, _

_ No, not this time, _

_ No, I won't say goodnight.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are apreciated. I always respond. 
> 
> Also, are you guys okay with me adding other bands in here?


	7. Lost In The Mental Estate, They Say I’m Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters for the price of one. Mostly flashbacks and set up for the next few chapters. 
> 
> Lyrics are from Ragdoll and Die For Something Beautiful. Chapter Title is from Ragdoll
> 
> Over 2000 words, I'm happy

_ “As they’re dragging me away.” _

 

_ He hates it here, he honestly hates it so much. His brothers are so far away and his home is out of reach. They don’t give him much, a few crackers and bread, some water. If he’s lucky they’ll give him whole meals and even sips of wine, which he didn’t think he’d like but finds he does. Anything different is good, he thinks.  _

 

_ It’s dark half of the time, but he prefers that to the bright lights. They let him speak all he wants, cry, scream. He bets he could sing if he wanted but he’s refused to, he doesn’t want to waste it on the cruel people who keep him here. He wants to save it for his brothers. Emmy, with his cute little smile and the way he excitedly bangs away at his drums, drumsticks crashing harshly against the instrument and filling the house with noise. Sebby, with his smug grin and those shoulder pads he’s so fond of.  _

 

_ He misses them so much, the hugs, the warmth. It’s so cold, so very cold, all the time. He shivers the most at night, barely able to sleep. They don’t come in very much and whenever they do, he can’t see them. It’s mostly them supplying him with water and food as well as adjusting his straight jacket, making sure all the straps and hooks are tight. His hands get a bit of wiggle room but at the start it was hard to do anything. He almost starved before they forcibly showed him how to eat in the thing.  _

 

_ As the years pass by, he counts the dark and light cycles hoping they are correct. He counts about four months worth when he gives in and starts singing again. He sings one of their oldest songs, one he hadn’t as much as mumbled in such a long time. He counts to a year and five months until he starts singing songs he’s more familiar with. His voice is slowly changing, adapting. Rougher and scratchier, it feels right.  _

 

_ His nineteenth birthday passes him, then his twentieth. Sebastian’s birthdays give him chills and he is always silent on those days. Emerson’s birthdays are when he cries. He cries and cries so loudly and usually he’s shrouded in darkness.  _

 

_ Three years go by before he begins to come up with new tunes to sing. He imagines his brothers by his side while he’s singing, but they’re younger than him. Their eyes are slightly clouded but their smiles are wide and genuine. In his mind, they don’t question him, they don’t shout or scream. They’re silent, but full of life and happiness.  _

 

_ There are others, but he can’t quite make them out. They’re always at the edges of his vision, blurry and distorted, their voices a mess of sound. They get louder as the room gets colder. He knows they are just as fake as his brothers, simply an illusion his mind has created to escape the reality of his situation, but he holds onto them like a lifeline. He holds onto all of them.  _

 

_ He starts out with glass cups and nice dishes but then he begins to make them explode and they take those away. Things occasionally break outside, but he can’t see them and he usually closes his eyes after the sound echos in his ears. He scratches the padded walls if he’s feeling antsy, screams loudly if he’s pissed - which isn’t as often as you might think - but mostly just sleeps. Sleeps and sings.  _

 

_ The first time he wakes up with water all the way to his chin he freaks out. He shakes himself around but all that manages to do is tip himself sideways and then his head is under. He chokes for a few minutes before coming up for air, hyperventilating and panic surging through his body. The water levels rise but his legs won’t work and he struggles in the water until he drops underneath again. He watches as the water reaches the ceiling and the fear of drowning staunches out any sense of composure, making him let out all the air he has left.  _

 

_ He doesn’t black out, he doesn’t even come close to drowning. Because he doesn’t need to breathe. It’s uncomfortable, of course, but it’s not killing him and he’s thankful for that. He floats for a while, the chill working its way under his skin, making him feel ill.  _

 

_ Weeks after the water has drained away he is still sick, sneezing from the cold he’s caught.  _

 

_ He finds himself in similar situations every once in a while in the years that follow. Sometimes he’s confined to a box, sometimes it’s just that cold, white room. Sometimes he even thinks he can see the sun, but trying to swim upwards just brings him grief, no matter the fact that he usually sprains or snaps the ankle bound to the ground.  _

 

_ He just waits for it to pass.  _

 

_ “And I feel like a rag doll, _

_ All those flowers on the cop car, _

_ Black cat in a top hat, _

_ Can't wait no more can't wait no more.” _

 

* * *

__

_ Emerson feels cold, even as a blanket is pulled around his shoulders. There’s someone crying behind him, another masculine voice shouting obscurities as a sob make its way up their throat. A hand is cautiously brushing through his hair and he’s thankful for it. Sebastian sits far away, shivering, from the wind or something else he doesn’t know.  _

 

_ Their mom is wiping her eyes continuously as she speaks to men and women in uniforms, who are simultaneously comforting her and unintentionally making everything slightly worse. They’re explaining the statistics and things they can do to move on. How it would be easier, better. Sebastian’s expresion is clouded, deep in thought.  _

 

_ Emerson stands on shaky legs and stumbles all the way over to his mother, almost crashing into her. She immediately wraps her arms around him and he cries into her coat, loud, choked sobs making him exhausted quickly. He stares up at her once his tears dry away and she’s still wiping at her eyes, but the grasp on him is tight, a little too tight for his liking. It’s like he’s being crushed and as he attempts to wiggle free, she clutches tighter.  _

 

_ “Mom,” he mumbles helplessly. She acts like she hasn’t heard him as the man by her keeps talking gibberish. She listens with full attention and he struggles more. “Mom!” _

 

_ She meets his gaze. The words he is going to say die on his tongue. She hushes him with the words, “Shhh, Emmy, Momma is talking. We can go inside soon.” He tries to stop his eyes from burning. The officer goes silent and she begins to walk, him almost tripping over his own feet as she half carries him over with her. He can see Sebastian rise from where he was seated, walking slowly towards them. He gently reaches over and tugs Mom’s hands away from him, taking his hand instead and leading him inside. He can vaguely hear voices behind him but all he’s focusing on is his brother pulling him through the house and helping him over to the bed, pulling off his shoes before hugging loosely.  _

 

_ He falls asleep to the sound of crying, whispers and the soft breaths coming from Sebastian.   _

 

* * *

__

_ A song comes to mind as the next few days go by. More people visit, keeping him trapped as flowers and notes arrive. Sebastian helps him stay away from them. His hands are warm and he has this way of calming Emerson. His elder brother deals with everything, every nosey guest, every hopeless twerp that came knocking.  _

 

_ Mom comes by sometimes, but he never sees her. Sebastian cooks all the food, takes care of him, holds him as he cries, waits until he falls asleep until he leaves his side. He can often hear voices echoing down the hall when he holes himself up in his room.  _

 

_ “You got to die for something beautiful, _

_ Diamonds break our aching minds, _

_ Elegance is turning us sober.”  _

 

_ He sings to himself, not quite as loud or defined as Remington’s, but unique in that aspect. Soft, careful, gentle. Sebastian likes to listen, just outside the door. He can hear him shift on the floorboards. He doesn’t say anything about it, doesn’t question or pester.  _

 

_ Slowly, things get better. He begins to leave his room more often and then he starts to take walks down the street, never alone, and he starts to feel okay again. He hugs his mother again and talks to his friends more often.  _

 

_ But he doesn’t realise something until the day of the funeral. He doesn’t realise that it isn’t Sebastian being strong, being tough through it all. No. Sebastian doesn’t believe Remington is dead. He’s so adamant that he doesn’t speak at the funeral, he doesn’t go with them to the gravesite. He doesn’t set foot in the graveyard. It would be something Emerson would get used to, the surety, the refusal to acknowledge the truth. The others accept it, some more hesitantly than others, more tears for some, but in the end, they do.  _

 

* * *

__

_ Sebastian’s voice is music to his ears and he wishes he could hear Emerson’s along with it. He takes in everything he can hear. Water is sinking into the floor again, food is given in its place. He’s given a treat this time, a small set of four squares of chocolate. It smells heavenly and it’s been so long since he’s eaten anything so sweet. Instead of scoffing it down straight away, he makes it last as long as he can. The sip of wine and cup of juice is nice too, along with the meat and cheese and vegetables. There isn’t a cracker or slice of bread in sight, which he is thankful for. After years and years of eating it day in and out, he is sick of it. So absolutely sick of it.  _

 

_ The realisation that he misses home comes back so quickly, one he’d forced out of his mind a long time ago. He’d suppressed all thoughts of escaping, all hopes. But with Sebastian, there so real and so whole and so warm, it brought everything back. So he screams again. He screams and screams and screams. His brother brought his hope back, his love back. His happiness back.  _

 

_ His fear back.  _

 

_ He screams, screams, screams, cries, cries, cries.  _

 

* * *

A phone is clutched in his hand as he lets it ring. His other hand is spread evenly against the counter, tired eyes gazing downwards. There’s a click and he keeps the phone close to his ear as a voice comes through it. 

 

**_“It’s midnight Emerson, what’s wrong?”_ **

 

“Sebastian... there’s something wrong with Sebastian. He keeps going on about seeing Rem. I’m scared.” Emerson whispers. The other person hears him loud and clear though. 

 

**_“Like the other week. I thought you said he was recovering.”_ **

 

“He was. He was doing so well, I was so happy for him.”

 

**_“What happened now?”_ **

 

“I woke up in a moving car this morning. He took me to the graveyard…”

 

**_“And?”_ ** __   
  


“He went there…” Emerson then mumbled a name. “He… Sebby went there, saw the flowers there. But he barely cried. He just stared at them. And then he said it was a mockery. That is was stupid. He said that he would have pulled out the flowers if not for the fact that Remington ‘will’ like them. Like Rem’s still out there.”

 

**_“Fuck. He’s still convinced._ ”**

 

“He’s getting worse.”

 

**_“Sleeping now, I assume.”_ **

 

“Yeah.”   


 

**_“Well… Keep an eye on him. I know you’re required to, doctor’s orders, but do it especially for me… Please.”_ **

 

“I promise.”

 

He drops the phone when the call cuts off. His head falls into his hands and he cries, whines and half choked sobs wracking his body. His elbows hold him up on the kitchen counter and after a while, as he settles down, he thinks about how the phone screen should be cracked in front of him. It’s not. 

 

He walks down the hall and stands just outside Sebastian’s room. His hand ghosts the door frame as he watches his brother sleep restlessly. His feet shuffle uselessly on the carpet and he moves away, singing softly. 

 

_ “Every time I see your face at night, _

_ Moving slowly through the wanted lights, _

_ Watermarks illuminate your eyes, _

_ Every time I see them, make me wanna cry.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, who's this, hmm?


	8. You'll Be Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, we made it. This is the big one. It got to 2400 words.
> 
> Chapter title and lyrics from You'll Be Fine

_ “I see it in those eyes, _

_ You're so damn hypnotized, _

_ You wanted to pretend the voice you hear is not in your head.” _

 

He’s shaken awake at six in the morning, which is unfortunate. He was hoping to sleep in, relax after the shock he had yesterday. He groans and blinks his eyes open, ready to whine about the unwelcome wakeup call when he makes eye contact with Sebastian. 

 

His hair is wild and he’s immediately pulling him out of bed and tossing pieces of clothing at him. A white shirt, striped vest and pants, shoes, necklaces, and a red piece of cloth to tie around his arm. Sebastian busies himself digging through his closet. 

 

“Sebastian? What the fuck?” 

 

Emerson hurries to get dressed at his brother's insistence, confusion growing more and more as Sebastian rips the hat off his dresser and stuffs it on Emerson’s head. “Sebastian, stop it! Just… stop!”

 

Sebastian grabs his arm and pulls him down the hall, fiddling with the keys in his hands to find the right one. They're out of the house and down the drive in seconds. Emerson tries to shake his brother off him but Sebastian won't let go. He hits, scratches and kicks and all it does is make Sebastian pull him off his feet and over the elder’s shoulder. 

 

“Sebastian! Let go!” 

 

Emerson doesn’t know what he would rather, waking up in a car already or being carried off while conscious. He knows he would much rather understand what’s going on but with what happened the day before, he’s more than just worried. Fear and panic is filling him up and he begins to struggle more, the sounds leaving his mouth being in no way coherent.

 

Sebastian does let go, dumping him in the passenger's seat and he’s suddenly reminded of the phone call from the night before. He’s supposed to be looking after Sebastian, watching him, making sure he’s not doing anything absolutely insane. Too late he guesses. Because Sebastian has already got him situated and secured with both a seatbelt on and the doors locked. Before Emerson has any time to process this though, Sebastian has already climbed in the driver’s side and started up the car. 

 

“Sebastian, what the fuck?! What is wrong with you?” His brother doesn’t answer as he clicks the car into gear and then they’re speeding down the street. Emerson is clutching the edges of his seat, shaking slightly with fear. They’re not heading the way they were yesterday, the complete opposite actually. 

 

He’s scared, he realises. He’s really, really scared. 

 

* * *

_ “I'm looking for you out there, _

_ I'm looking for truth inside your stare, _

_ I'm looking for you outside, _

_ 'Cause I mean it, no, I mean it, you'll be fine!” _

 

_ “I went there, Rem.” He tells Remington softly, both of them lying beside each other with the fluffy fabric of the rug tickling their necks. One of his legs is arched upwards whereas the other rests atop his knee. He has his hands underneath his head, hair threaded through his fingers. Remington’s hands sit comfortably on his stomach, legs straight and stiff. He has an uneasy smile on his face.  _

 

_ “I know,” he hums and removes one of his hands from his middle, placing it on Sebastian’s shoulder. “And now I can talk to you. Explain everything. I just… I don’t know where to start.” _

 

_ “The beginning?” Sebastian tilts his head sideways so that he’s looking at his brother. “When you disappeared. Maybe start there.” Remington lets out a cackle, lips twisting into a scowl.  _

 

_ “Before you ask, I didn’t do it on purpose.” _

 

_ “I know that.” _

 

_ The younger brother’s brows furrow and Sebastian frowns, unsure. He’d definitely given it some thought in the past, of what could have happened. Some of the police’s theories had crept into his mind at times, that he was mugged on the street, accidentally killed by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Others thought that he’d been kidnapped and left for dead somewhere out in the country.  _

 

_ But the one theory that made Sebastian sick and pissed him off the most was when they pointed the finger at him, at their Mom. At the number of people who loved and cared for Remington. He’d had enough when they accused Emerson of murdering his big brother so he could have the spotlight. They’d gotten a punch in the face for that, but unfortunately, Sebastian couldn’t claim responsibility. Emerson had been sick at that point in time, having not eaten or seen sunlight in a few days so he looked awful, ill and tired. They’d had the audacity to try to arrest him and another officer had gotten smacked, which actually was Sebastian’s doing.  _

 

_ “Well, I…” Remington trails off.  _

 

_ “You’re not dead, are you?” Sebastian asks, just to be sure.  _

 

_ “Oh, hell no. Still alive and kicking. But I wouldn’t question this,” he gestured upwards and about. “Yeah, still alive. I didn’t run away or anything, actually I was just going out to get some fresh air.”  _

 

_ “You were grabbed off the street.”  _

 

_ “Yup, straight down an alleyway scratching and biting. Put up a pretty good fight if I do say so myself.” Remington’s tone then turns sombre. He rests his arms back down by his sides and Sebastian feels tears creeping to the edge of his vision at the sadness in his brother’s eyes. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.” _

 

_ “So…” He’s almost scared to ask.  _

 

_ “I’ve been by myself this whole time. I don’t know my captor’s face, nor what they want. They feed me, but usually, it’s bland and tasteless. Sometimes they feel a bit generous and give me something nice to eat. Wine’s pretty nice, you know.” Remington then stretches out, carelessly kicking his shoes off, of which Sebastian hadn’t noticed but had been unlaced. “The silence is the worst, but singing usually herds away the worst of it all. Only thing keeping me sane, seeing your faces again.” _

 

_ “I always knew you were still alive.” Sebastian sighed. “No one ever believed me. Emerson especially.” _

 

_ “He was pretty torn up, huh?”  _

 

_ “Torn up is an understatement.” He moves his hands to grasp at the rug as he pushes himself up so his arms are straight. At Remington’s guilty look, he adds, “it’s not your fault though.”  _

 

_ “He’s gonna get a shock when he sees me again.” Remington sits up as well, crossing his legs and almost looming over Sebastian.  _

 

_ “Speaking of which…” Sebastian really has no idea how to help Remington. All he knows is that his little brother is trapped and scared but alive. And he will do anything to save him, now that he knows that there is something to save. “How do I…” _

 

_ “I can show you, show you what everything looks like, what I can remember.” He leans over and taps Sebastian on the shoulder. Flashes of a wooden building and a dark green door fill his vision. Then a hallway and a cracked window and walls of white.  _

 

**_Patient X_ **

 

_ His expression twists into one of confusion as he tries to understand what these images mean. Then he can see Remington’s face, giddy and smeared with makeup. Thoughts enter his mind that he knows aren’t his, instructing him as what to do. He shakes his head and smiles, darkness overtaking his vision and curling his surroundings until he makes eye contact with his bedroom ceiling, light streaming in through the thin curtains. He knows what he has to do now.  _

 

_ He just has to do this right.  _

 

* * *

__

The man in front of Sebastian makes his blood boil. The fake smile on his face makes him feel sick to the stomach. He wears a dull black suit with no trimming, no extra bits and pieces. There’s no individuality in anything about the man, same haircut as the two that walk on either side of Sebastian, a little too close for comfort as the first man leads him into a side room and has Sebastian sit across from him. The two unwelcome company leave them and the door shuts swiftly with a soft click. 

 

“So, Mr Danzig, what is it that I can do for you today?” He asks and Sebastian scowls at the way he pronounces his name. Sebastian has conveniently left out the name Kropp from their previous exchange but he has a suspicion that this man already knows exactly who he is, and what he wants. He plays along anyway.

 

“Remington Leith Kropp, where is he?” 

 

“Ah, I’m sure if you contact the family they’d be more aware of where exactly his gravestone lies.” 

 

Sebastian taps his feet, impatient. The door is most likely locked, giving him no way to escape, so it wouldn’t be great if he lost it. “So, you are aware he is dead. Who told you that?” 

 

The man let his eyes narrow. He spends a little too long thinking about how to answer the question that Sebastian begins to suspect that he doesn’t actually know who Sebastian is. Which wasn’t something he had expected or intended, but something he’s quite happy with.

 

“I do watch the news once in a while you know,” The man settles on, letting his fingers run across the polished wooden desk. 

 

“Oh yeah, you’d remember the tragic disappearance and murder of a kid from six years ago,” Sebastian scoffs. 

 

“I can’t help you, Mr Danzig. I apologise.”

 

The musician stands abruptly, kicking his chair back a few inches. “Bullshit,” he hisses, gripping tightly to the edge of the desk, nails digging into the slick surface. “Tell me where my brother is you sick fuck.” The man’s facial expression hints at surprise before he schools it. 

 

“Mr Danzig  _ Kropp _ , I assume.” 

 

“Yeah,” Sebastian tries to calm himself, breathing in and out slowly. But he can’t help the way his heels stab into the floor. “Sebastian Danzig Kropp. Now give me my brother.” 

 

The man gets to his feet as well. “Your brother isn’t here.”

 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

 

The man sighs in disappointment, but Sebastian can somehow feel the waves of panic coming off him. “You know, your brother truly is extraordinary.”

 

“Not even gonna try and deny it?” 

 

“Why would I bother, it wouldn’t change your mind.” 

 

Sebastian stalks away from the other, standing by the door. It looks reasonably secure, but he’s pretty sure if worst comes to worst he could kick it open. Maybe. “Where. Is. He?” His voice is cold, which is again unintentional but welcomed. 

 

“We can’t just let him go.” The man walks around his desk and comes closer to Sebastian, which makes him instinctively reach for the door. His other hand snakes out and grabs ahold of his wrist, stopping the door from being in his grasp. “He’s too…”

 

“What exactly do you want with him. You’ve had him for six years and done fucking nothing.” 

 

“Please, Mr Dan- Kropp, sit down.” The man reaches out to lead him back to the centre of the room but Sebastian flinches back. He sighs again and shakes his head. “Your brother is special.”

 

“Explain.”

 

“He has these powers. Uncontrollable, mostly unpredictable and very, very dangerous. We’re just trying to pro-”

 

“Powers?” Sebastian almost laughs until he stops and thinks. Asks himself exactly how he could see Remington, thinks about how he knew where to go. Then he thinks back to when he used to find broken electronic parts and coffee cups and glass back when Remington hung around. The cracked window Remington showed him. “Tell me.” 

 

The man hesitates before he speaks. “He can breathe underwater because he’s terrified of drowning. When he gets scared he can create thunderstorms and break windows. Anger causes earthquakes…” The room rocks a little in return. Sebastian can feel himself getting a little irritated at the way the man speaks about his brother like a creature, a monster. Like something other than human. His hands shake as the room does.

 

“He must be pissed off right now then.”

 

The man gives him a look, a calculating one. And then he pauses and purses his lips a little before he begins to pace. Sebastian’s fingers are twitching as the room stops moving and one of those generic coffee mugs begins to crack in front of his eyes. 

 

“Ah…” The man hums and Sebastian frowns at him. “Brothers, of course.” 

 

Then all he can see is monochrome. It’s so sudden and jarring that he stumbles backwards, hearing the lock on the door click when his skin brushes against the metal. He’s in danger, he knows it. He doesn’t know how he knows it, but he does. It makes him force his hand down on the handle and push the door open. 

 

He begins to run as light bulbs shatter above his head. Rough, guttural laughter echoes down the hall and he follows it, taking no notice of where he’s going. The building is shuddering again, doors slamming and splintering, but he can’t bring himself to care. He just… doesn’t.

 

Numbers pop out at him and he runs his hand across the wall, counting down until he gets to exactly where he’s supposed to be. The window is cracked and when he inches out to touch it, it explodes in a chaotic burst of energy. He looks down. 

 

Sitting in the middle of the room, arms tightly secured around him, Patient X grins up at him. His eyes are shrouded in pink and red, the makeup curving down his face and smearing across his cheeks and trailing from his lips. It’s Remington. Real, in the flesh. Alive. 

 

He can’t stop the tears. He really can’t. Nor can Rem. Sebastian kneels down and gathers his brother in his arms. He’s light, as he always has been, and his older brother lifts him with ease. He wraps one arm around his little brother’s torso and another underneath his knees, holding him close to his chest. Droplets collect at his chin and drip into Remington’s hair as the ground stops shaking. 

 

And he runs, he runs as fast as he can. He runs back to his little brother. He runs to safety. 

 

* * *

_ “Not to alarm you but I think Sebastian just kidnapped Emerson. Again.” _

 

_ “What?” _

 

_ “He sent me a text, four hours ago. He said he was scared, that Sebastian had grabbed him and forced him into the car and he was locked in.” _

 

_ “What the actual fuck?! What do we do?” _

 

_ “I don’t know…” _ _   
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	9. I'll Fly To The Moon Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at it again, giving you the feels. 
> 
> Lyrics are from Dying In A Hot Tub and White. Chapter Title is from Dying In A Hot Tub

_ “You're looking skinny, you sleepy head, _

_ Well, have you gotten out of bed? _

_ Have you gotten out of bed?” _

 

Emerson hears soft singing in his head and everything is a blur. He blinks away tears, uncoordinatedly rubbing his face and sleep out of his eyes. A gentle breeze carries through an air vent, blowing cool air into his face. He’s still in the car, yet he doesn’t remember falling asleep. The sun is low in the sky, so not much time could have passed, and he feels a little groggy. His neck aches from how he slept. 

 

The door is likely still locked but he tries it anyway, and Sebastian is missing. He’s alone. But not for long as the lock clicks and he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He slumps, pretending to be asleep, and listens. He can hear murmurs and then the roof of the car is gone and the scent of spring overpowers the icy, hollow smell of stale air being cooled and fed back through towards him. He can’t make out what is being said, but he knows Sebastian has returned, and not alone. He can feel someone’s breath behind him, almost taste the salty tears as the person cries almost soundlessly. The car starts and he thinks it might be safe to look up, still unsure about their extra passenger. 

 

“Sebastian?” He mumbles, frowning as he takes in the brightest smile and the tear-stained face that his elder brother is currently sporting. He hears the person behind him start and he hesitantly -  **_he’s kinda scared okay, Sebastian hasn’t been in his right mind recently_ ** \- turns his head and makes eye contact with the mystery person. 

 

Variations of shock mark both of their faces and he stares and stares and stares because this isn’t just some nobody, some stranger. Nor is it one of their friends, their mother, someone that it would be possible to pick up. No, it’s none of those. It’s… it’s…

 

“Remington?” He’s quiet and the other reaches up and places his hand on Emerson’s cheek, giving him a soft, surprised smile. 

 

“My baby brother, oh my god, you’re so much older now.” His voice is scratchy and deeper than before, but it’s his and Emerson almost screams at his face, reaching around his seat belt to pull his brother close, holding him tight. His seat belt cuts into his waist but he can’t bring himself to care. Remington’s embrace is so warm, so loving and so very welcomed. 

 

“H-how? What the… how are you…?” He stutters and studies his brother’s face. Those dark eyes and that wide smile that Emerson missed, that he thought he’d never see again. He can barely hold back tears. “I-I don’t understand.”

 

“You should’ve believed me,” Sebastian says from beside him and Emerson strains to look at him while still hanging halfway out his seat, hugging their backseat passenger. Sebastian is smiling and his fingers are taping out a familiar beat. Remington giggles at this. 

 

“I… still…” Emerson protests but then Remington starts singing and he can’t speak, can’t utter a single word. 

 

_ “Lies, your dirty lies lost in your eyes, _

_ Your big blue eyes, they can paint the sky, _

_ Don't be so scared to be yourself, _

_ Alright.” _

 

Remington grins, satisfied with Emerson’s stunned stare, pulling back and relaxing. It gives the youngest brother a chance to see how Rem is dressed. And it isn’t a pretty sight. A straight jacket, dusty black jeans, ill-fitting shoes. He doesn’t seem distressed about his state, hair thrown back in the wind. He’s laughing, joy sparkling in his eyes and Emerson wipes his face with the back of his hand. 

 

“How?!” He asks, falling back into his seat. Sebastian raises his eyebrows.

 

“How as in…” 

 

“How as in, how the hell is he  _ alive _ , not that I’m fucking complaining. How as in, how the actual fuck did you know where to find him?  _ How?! _ ” Their surroundings are slowly losing their green colour, fading into dusty browns and golden tones as they reach the outskirts of civilisation. Remington leans forward and whispers something in Sebastian’s ear, making their elder brother turn sharply. It throws both younger brothers’ back and makes Emerson push the soles of his feet into the carpet. 

 

“That…” Sebastian hesitates. “That can be explained later.” 

 

“Seb.”

 

“It’s a little bit of a long story,” Remington speaks up. “Not really an on-the-go talk.” He huffs. “Trust me, I’d love to explain the whole thing to you and I will, just… not right now.” 

 

Emerson sighs, rubs his face and scrunches up his hair between his fingers. “Fine… but it better happen. For now…” He reaches behind him and feels Remington snatch his wrist with both his hands. He lets a watery smile grace his face. “I’m just glad you’re back.” 

 

* * *

They stop near a cliff. Emerson doesn’t know why, but it’s just so beautiful that he can’t bring himself to care. As soon as the car stops, he jumps out, feeling free and happier than ever. Sebastian takes his time, helping Remington stand, who is shaking on his feet. He’s scared to think of why that is. 

 

Remington rakes his eyes up Emerson, taking in every little detail, a small smile gracing his lips when he gets up to his little brother’s face. He slowly walks forward, wavering, and drops into Emerson’s grasp, shuddering with pure laughter. He’s skinny and when Emerson picks him up, he’s light. Too light. He’d always been on the thin side, but now Emerson can feel his ribs. He can’t help but feel protective, like he is with the reckless Sebastian. 

 

“I still can’t believe…” 

 

“I know,” Remington whispers in his ear. It’s so beautiful, his voice, like when he was singing, and Emerson is aware of how much he could get lost in it if something wasn’t pulling at his attention. They pull away from each other and Emerson helps Rem stumble over to their elder brother, letting himself drift away until he ended up at the edge. The water beneath is a calming blue and is likely very deep. The cliff overhangs and the drop would probably land him right in the middle. 

 

Something shines in the darkness below and he strains to see exactly what it is. Unfortunately, it’s blurry and far too small to make out, but curiosity is eating at him for some reason. It’s dangerous, standing so close to the edge, but he can’t help it. His feet scuff the dirt and he stares into the abyss, so familiar and comforting to him, almost as much as his brothers. 

 

He places a foot on the edge, so the heel is the only thing stuck in the ground. Something is compelling his forward. He doesn’t know why, and he’s scared because he can’t fight it. He begins to feel helpless and forces his gaze away from the drop, to face his brothers. Remington has just turned towards him, eyes widening as he sees the predicament Emerson is in. He turns himself around, trying to step away from the cliff, but all it does is make him more imbalanced, something pulling him backward. With one hand he reaches out, grasping uselessly at air.

 

Sebastian finally sees him, crying out as he tumbles back and then he is flying, no, falling, crashing hard towards the water. The deep, deep water. He can’t even scream, voice refusing to obey his whims. He’s terrified, but his mind keeps pushing his focus back to the shiny object that had led him to the edge in the first place.  

 

Right before he hits the water, he can hear Remington’s voice, see his face, and it’s like he’s seeing it for the first time, as fresh tears escape his eyes and the wind streams through his hair. 

 

The water is freezing, chilling him to the bone and he struggles, free from the paralysis that he felt before. His lungs scream for oxygen and, on instinct, he opens his mouth, letting out all the air he had left and instead making him choke on water. He thinks he can hear something splash next to him but he’s not sure. He can barely make anything out. He’s sinking, finding it hard to stay afloat with all the water he’s consumed. 

 

He kicks upward anyway.

* * *

 

_ “I'll fly to the moon again _

_ I'm dying in a hot tub _

_ I'm dying in a hot tub with my friends.” _

 

* * *

__

_ “Sebastian, you can’t just leave,” he yells, watching at the ravenette stalk away. He reaches out and grasps his forearm. “Emerson needs you there, you know that.” _

 

_ “Get off,” Sebastian pushes him away, taking a moment to brush down his hair before he starts to walk again.  _

 

_ “Sebastian!”  _

 

_ “I don’t care, he’s just pretending,” Sebastian says. “So are you, you’re all pretending that he’s dead because you can’t handle the thought of him being trapped and you being unable to do anything about-”  _

 

_ “Shut up, Seb. Don’t do this. Not today.”  _

 

_ “Do what?” Sebastian stalks back to him, grasping his wrist and pulling him forward until their noses are touching. “Tell you the truth?”  _

 

_ “Sebby…” _

 

_ “I’m sorry, but I can’t just pretend like you are. You can just talk to me, you know. You feel guilty that you can’t save him. You think there’s nothing you can do. But there is, we can-” _

 

_ “Sebastian! Please.” He can’t even stop the tears. “Please don’t.” The taller just runs his hands through the shorter’s hair.  _

 

_ “I’ll see you later, I promise. I just can’t go there, because it’s stupid. I wish you’d see that.” Sebastian’s voice is calm as he lets go and walks away. “And please, please don’t cry. I hate seeing you sad.” _

 

_ He’s left all alone in a church, standing dumbfounded with tears flowing freely from his eyes before he hears Emerson call for him. Wiping his eyes, aware of how terrible he must look, he braves the path and embraces the younger Kropp brother tightly.  _

 

* * *

__

It all happens so fast. Emerson hits the water, Remington breaks away and then he’s running after his brother and diving over the cliff beside him. 

 

Sebastian only looks away from where they’re plummeting for a second to see the change his brother undertakes. Right in front of his eyes, Remington’s hair goes blonde and he loses the straight jacket, instead wearing a plaid suit jacket and matching pants, sneakers fitting nicely on his feet. It’s so surprising that he forgets to take in a deep breath before he hits the water, air leaving his lungs almost immediately, yet they don’t seem to be struggling too much. 

 

He looks for Remington, finding him quickly, and then they search for Emerson, swimming about until they do. His hat is floating away, hair loose and wild. His eyes are wild, kicking up a storm as he struggles. He can’t stop himself when he sees his little brother, immediately swimming over to him and pulling over to where he assumes is shore. 

 

If he was scared, he wouldn’t have noticed how easy it was to tread the water, or how long they had spent underwater without drowning. Emerson’s eyes blink open several times, worried and confused, but Sebastian keeps going. He spots Remington out of the corner of his eye, taking Emerson’s other arm and dragging him away. Between the two of them, the task is easier to undertake, and so they surface quicker then he’d thought they would. 

 

He breathes in the steady stream of air as Emerson coughs the water out of his lungs, choking and gagging and throwing up, Remington shivering a little from the cold but otherwise unharmed. Sebastian helps his baby brother up when he is done, helping him out of his white shirt and dark vest and scrunching the clothes up, twisting the water out of them before doing the same with his own. Remington shrugs off his jacket, exposing his skinny frame and tattooed skin. Sebastian makes a note to ask about those. 

 

“What the fuck, Emerson?” He hisses and Remington shuffles over to them, pulling his hair upwards so it mirrors what Sebastian had seen in his dream. 

 

The youngest brother cuddles up to him, cold to the touch. “I couldn’t stop. I- how are we still alive. We should have drowned!” He hooks his fingers over Sebastian’s shoulder and attempts to intertwine them with Remington’s. “How are you so calm about this? Start explaining!”   
  
“I was kidnapped. Not killed,” Remington says, crossing his legs. “Because… because of well… this.” He gestures at the three of them. “Because I can breathe underwater, cause earthquakes and thunderstorms and break  _ anything _ by just looking at it.” He proceeds to shake the ground a little and Emerson yelps. “You guys probably can too. I mean, I wasn’t the one who broke all those light bulbs back there.” Sebastian smirks at him and Remington grins. “It just hasn’t… manifested… as easily.” 

 

“Woah, woah, stop.” Emerson holds his hands up. “We have… powers?” He then frowns and Sebastian knows he’s thinking, trying to piece everything together as he himself had to not too long ago. 

 

“Yeah,” Sebastian hums in his ear, hugging his freezing brother tighter. “We do.” 

 

* * *

_ “They can call it faith or maybe destiny, _

_ The only thing on my mind is you and me,  _

_ Trapped in the dark, you’re my only light, _

_ It’s me against the devil, I’m ready to fight!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the point of no return. More bands and more characters and some shipping ahead. If that's not your thing, you can hop off now with a somewhat satisfying ending, but I'd love it if you kept reading. 
> 
> Lyrics at the end are a little bit of a hint as to what is to come but don't look too much into those. Their origin is something you can either wait to find out or search up yourself.


	10. Only Actions Can Speak The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being serious, this is the last warning you'll get before we get into crossover and shipping territory. 
> 
> Ships, new fandoms and lyrics sources will now be listed at the bottom of the chapters in order as to not spoil everything, but eventually, they will be listed in the tags. I just don't want everyone entering this fic from those other fandoms not having very much content when they do enter this. 
> 
> This is a somewhat short chapter but I promise that the next one will be longer. 
> 
> Chapter title is from Let Him Burn which is from American Satan. I actually just rewatched it and ended up picking out a lot of Palaye Royale songs.

_ “Do you question your devotion? _

_ Are you trapped in your emotions? _

_ There a way out to see what's really right in front of me?” _

 

* * *

_ They were all pretty young when Daniel met them. All young and smiling and happy. Love at first sight, he would call it, but in actuality, it had taken a little while to realise that Daniel liked Sebastian as more than a friend. He’d gotten close with the other two as well, bonding over music and art, and simply hanging out.  _

 

_ He’d met the others through Remington, who’d introduced his two boyfriends pretty early on in the whole friendship scene. They were both quite a bit older than any of the rest of them, yet both Sebastian and Emerson seemed pretty chill with the whole thing. They’d introduced their friends and in no time Daniel had a rather large circle of friends to support him and care for him.  _

 

_ It wasn’t like he hadn’t had friends growing up, but he’d been quite worried when his family had moved that he wouldn’t be able to join a group or make a single friend. He was terrified that he was going to be alone.  _

 

_ So yes, he would say they were all really close and practically family. And that’s why, when he gets a text telling him to hurry over to the Kropp brother’s house, he drops everything. _

 

_ It’s cold and reasonably dark with the sun mostly hidden beneath the horizon. There are bright flashing lights of red and blue, strangers standing around the drive. By the mailbox, two familiar figures stand, questioning the chaos, obviously just as confused as he is.  _

 

_ “Ashley? Andy?” Daniel scrunches up his brow. “What’s going on?”  _

 

_ Andy hugs him when he comes over, but Ashley keeps his eyes trained on the group of people, most clothed in blue. Daniel can now pick out people; Sebastian sitting over by himself, staring into space; Stephanie, with a serious look on her face, talking to who he gathers is a police officer of some sort; and finally, Emerson, face in his hands, shaking. But…  _

 

_ “Where’s Remington?” It is like Ashley read his thoughts. A scowl forms on the elder man’s face and he moves from where he was leaned against the fence. Daniel purses his lips and shoots a worried look at Andy, who shrugs and so they follow.  _

 

_ “Emerson, what’s going on?” Daniel asks once he’s close enough, and the boy looks up, stunned.  _

_ “D-Daniel…” He mumbles, half choked sobs mixing with the word. Daniel is immediately concerned, kneeling beside Emerson, who is sat on the steps to the house. Ashley takes one look at Emerson’s shivering mess of a state and stalks over towards Stephanie, crossing his arms. Andy instead walks over to Sebastian, visibly unsettled by everything he’s seen so far.  _

 

_ Ashley's face radiates pure anger as well as shock as he glowers at the two men he speaks to. Daniel’s fists clench tighter and he looks Emerson dead in the eyes, voice low and lacking its usual casual nature. “What’s wrong?” _

 

_ “Rem… they’re saying that he’s…” The younger Kropp brother breaks down crying, unable to finish. But unsaid words ring in Daniel’s ears. Andy still doesn’t know what is going on, expression still one of confusion and worry. Ashley does though, as a sudden shout breaks free from his mouth, wordless screams and a jumble of noise.  _

 

_ Daniel takes Emerson in his arms and lets him howl into his shirt and cling tightly to the fabric. Andy runs, actually runs, once Sebastian appears none too helpful, silent and dead set on ignoring everything. The singer stumbles to his knees, shaking with fear and having completely lost his sense of composure. Daniel clears his throat, uncertain, and glances down at the sobbing boy in his arms.  _

 

_ “Remington’s gone…” _

 

_ “Gone? Gone where?” Andy doesn’t understand. Or, he doesn’t want to, like Sebastian, who’s staring off into space, blank expression and cold stance.  _

 

_ Before Daniel can answer, Emerson does, broken and barely coherent enough to be understood. “Remmy’s dead… he’s-he’s d-dead.” Despite already coming to that realisation, it still hurts a hell of a lot to hear it. Andy freezes and his head snaps over to where Ashley is currently being held back by a duo of officers, spitting in their faces as he screams.   _

 

_ “No… no, he can’t be,” Andy whispers. “He can’t be,” his tone is firmer and he stands, wobbly and unsure. Then he walks, ever so slowly, over to his boyfriend, who hasn’t stopped shouting and in fact has gotten louder, more panicked. “Ashley! Ash, stop it!” He cries. “Stop it!” _

 

_ “Did you hear what they said?” Ashley growls back and Daniel pulls Emerson closer, covering the younger boy’s ears as Ashley screams again. “Did you hear what they fucking said?! Liars! They’re all fucking liars!” His shrieks turn into sobs and Andy pulls him back, both crashing to the ground and almost cracking their skulls on the driveway. Daniel runs his hands through Emerson’s hair, gently, always gently, and sneaks a peek at Sebastian.  _

 

_ The eldest Kropp brother hasn’t moved or even reacted to the spectacle the others have made. At least not openly. On the inside, Daniel is sure his boyfriend is breaking down, but he’s good at hiding it. Too good.  _

 

_ Emerson shifts and Daniel lets him stand and stumble over to his mother. He takes the time to brush his hair down and wipe his eyes before he faces Sebastian, calling out to him. “Sebastian, come on, look at me.” _

 

_ Surprisingly enough, he does, gaze somewhat empty and dry tear tracks still marking his cheeks. “Curcio, hey,” he says, softly. “How are you going?”  _

 

_ Daniel can’t stand seeing him like this. So broken, shuddering in the cold, with no emotion. Vacant. Sebastian then suddenly makes his way to his feet, striding away to detach his mother from his baby brother, leading him inside. So he just follows, helping Ashley and Andy to their feet and helping the two up and to the door.  _

 

_ He doesn’t sleep. None of them do. _

 

* * *

__

_ “See it in our eyes, _

_ That we were never blind, _

_ I will fight for you, _

_ Until the day I die.” _

 

* * *

__

They lie by the lakeside for a while before Emerson begins to shiver and he decides they should head home. Somehow, their clothes have dried and so he helps both of his younger brothers into them before dressing himself. 

 

“We can’t go home,” Remington says, rising from the ground. “They know Sebastian is like me, and they’ll assume you are too.” He looks down at his little brother. “They’ll come looking for you there.” 

 

“Who?”

 

“The same people who kept him locked up for over six years,” Sebastian speaks up. “I’m doubtful they’ll let him go that easily. That’s why we drove so far.” He steps away from them, tracing the cliff face to find a way up. When he finds one, he heads in that direction, followed by his brothers. 

 

“Where can we go?” Remington asks, more to himself than to them. 

  
“Daniel…” Sebastian trails off. “We could go to him.”

 

Emerson coughs to gain their attention. “Uh, about that...”

 

The car comes into sight. Sebastian shoves his hand in his pocket, relieved when he is able to locate his key. “Emerson?” Remington stumbles into the back seat, still a little uncoordinated, and Emerson slides in next to him, leaving Sebastian by himself in the front. “Emerson?” He questions with a little more urgency. 

 

“I might have texted Daniel that you kidnapped me...”

 

“You what?” He turns to glare at Emerson, who shrugs in response.

  
“You pretty much did.”

 

“Seriously? Sebastian!” Remington huffs and then rests his head on his little brother’s shoulder. “Why?”

 

“Okay, I admit that yes, I did. But, it wasn’t like he was going to come with me.”

 

“Ah…” Remington sighs, the mood turning sombre. “You thought I was dead.”

 

“Wasn’t like I had any choice. That’s what they told us.” 

 

In a rush to change the topic, Sebastian cuts in. “So, Daniel thinks-”

 

“-Knows-”

 

“-That I kidnapped you. So, he’s probably called Ash and Andy, possibly the others as well, and they’re probably all gathered at his house. We need to be careful moving forward.”

 

“Careful?” Remington mumbles and then freezes. “Wait. All of you?! All of you believed…?” 

 

“I was the only one…” Sebastian reaches back and places his hand on Remington’s arm, rubbing it for a moment before he sticks the keys in the ignition and starts the car, turning swiftly and driving back the way they came. 

 

“Sorry,” Emerson mutters. 

 

“It-It’s okay…” Remington says but Sebastian can see tears fill the boy’s eyes through the rearview mirror. “How am I supposed to face them?”

  
“Exactly the same as how you faced me, or even Emerson. With as much love as possible.” The eldest speeds up and despite his sure tone, he’s worried for how this whole thing will turn out. In the meantime, he’s decided to ignore the prospect of telling their mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go, Black Veil Brides is one new fandom added to this story. It won't be the only one, but it's the first. 
> 
> Lyrics are from Let Him Burn - American Satan and Wake Up - Black Veil Brides
> 
> Main ships at this point are Danzio (Daniel and Sebastian) and Remdy + Ashley Purdy (Remington, Andy and Ashley.) 
> 
> My reason for the later is due to my shipping brain loving both Remdy and Andly, so guess what, you get both.


	11. Let Shadows Die, So I Can Feel Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you read the warning in the previous chapter so let's just get going, yeah? 
> 
> Chapter Title is from Shadows Die by Black Veil Brides

_ “Uh… Hey, mom. Could you… come down to the hospital? P-please…” _

 

_ Emerson can’t stop the tears. They continuously pour down his face as he tries to keep his voice even.  His hands shake as he presses the phone to his ear, body freezing and shivering despite the blanket they gave him. It’s quiet and dark in the waiting room, which makes him uneasy. A lone nurse sits at her desk, occasionally looking up at him, tired gaze watching over him.  _

 

_ “Emmy, what’s wrong?” She immediately demands, muted talking and background noise as well as shuffling giving him the indication that she’s out. Perhaps out with friends or something, he hasn’t asked about her social life in a while. “Emerson?” _

 

_ “Seb… He… I found him on the ground when I got home…” _

 

_ More shuffling, the jingle of keys, hurried footsteps.  _

 

_ “I’m pretty sure he was drinking, but he had too much… way… way too much…” Emerson almost sobs into the phone and the footsteps get faster. “I-he was so sick, he wasn’t responding and I didn’t know what to do and I panicked and called an ambulance and they came and I-” He’s speaking too fast and he’s sure she can’t understand him but he can’t seem to stop. Until she cuts in.  _

 

_ “You’re calling me from the hospital? Which one?” He can hear her heels click on the pavement as she runs, the sound of traffic echoing through the line. He wipes his eyes and nose on his sleeve and manages to muddle through an address, even as she starts an engine.  _

 

_ She hangs up with a rushed promise that she’s coming and he rubs his face again. The lone nurse gives him a sympathetic look and he places this phone back down on the seat next to him, wrapping himself tighter in the blanket. He’s sure she’ll arrive soon enough, but he can’t help but close his eyes.  _

 

_ He wakes to her shaking him, the same lone nurse standing right next to her.  _

 

* * *

__

_ “The beat to your broken heart, _

_ I can't put it back together, _

_ No, I won't put it back together, _

_ This is where it ends.” _

 

* * *

__

_ “He’s going to be okay, Emerson,” Daniel says when he sees the youngest Kropp brother seated by Sebastian’s side. His hand comes down on the other’s shoulder, coaming his hair back with the other. “They said he just needs to sleep the whole thing off. That’s what he’s doing.” _

 

_ “But he… Why would he?” Emerson asks, nervous and unsure. “He’s been so upbeat recently.” _

 

_ Daniel can’t help but ask himself the same question. Sebastian, from Emerson’s descriptions, was on the mend. Writing music, playing guitar. Sure, he probably would never return to what he was before. But he had been getting better, hadn’t he? “I don’t know, I’m sorry.” _

 

_ “I guess we’ll have to wait for him to answer that question.”  _

 

_ Daniel sits down on the bed, being mindful of Sebastian as he rests his hand on the elder boy’s one. Sebastian is one of the most important people in his life and it hurts to see him like this, so sickly and small. He’s already lost one of his best friends, torn so harshly from their collective grasp, so suddenly, unforgivingly.  _

 

_ He’s scared. He’s terrified because he doesn’t want to lose anyone else. Ashley has often toed the edge, especially back when he was younger or when he’s especially drunk, see every one of Remington’s birthdays. Andy, Jinxx, Jake, CC and even Daniel himself had come close too. But Emerson… Emerson had stayed far away. He’d managed to recover the quickest, which at first had unnerved Daniel before he’d figured out that the boy simply had his elder brother to look after him. Sebastian had been consistently calm and poised, of which Daniel was thankful for.  _

 

_ Until he figured out why.  _

 

_ Now his thoughts always extend to the brothers. Even when he’s trying not to worry, even when he’s forcing himself to work through everything, Sebastian tends to haunt him a little. He loves the man, absolutely loves him, and he’s sure that there isn’t anyone he’d love more. But he wants to give Sebastian time. It hurts, it hurts so much, the way Sebastian deals with it all. The way he is so hopeful, so optimistic… _

 

_ Denial. Complete denial.  _

 

_ It had hit all of them differently, both the initial announcement and then when everything began to tumble over. For some, it was like a hurricane, others like a tidal wave. The reactions were all different; anger, depression, cold, empty. But they’d all found acceptance eventually. Except Sebastian.  _

 

_ “Hey, Daniel?” Emerson’s voice pulls him away from his thoughts.   _

 

_ “Yeah?”  _

 

_ “Do you think he’ll ever get better?”  _

 

_ Daniel sighs, leaning forward to brush the boy’s hair out of his face. “Time heals all wounds. That’s what they say.”  _

 

* * *

__

Ashley’s been meaning to give it up, this little habit of his. Yet, the constant stress in his life makes it kind of hard to. The feeling of a cigarette between his fingers is such a familiar feeling that he can’t help but reminisce to when he truly felt happy. He loves Andy, of course he does, but it was all three of them, together, that truly made him happy. So now, this is the closest thing to what he used to have. 

 

He can see the cars drive by from where he stands on the front porch. The wood behind him digs into his back slightly but it’s the most peaceful place to be. It’s late in the morning, the clock ticking closer to the twelve right at the top. There’s not too much traffic, no loud honking or anything, for which he’s glad of. The whole atmosphere would be ruined by the addition of people. No, all he needed was the occasional car to speed by, his cigarette and the breeze on his face. 

 

A car slows and he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking up. It turns off and pulls into the driveway and he narrows his eyes. It brings to mind a time lost in the past.

 

It’s the Kropp brothers, he realises. Or, two of them at least. Because there’d never be three of them ever again.

 

“Daniel!” He calls out because he knows the younger man is not too far away. Sure enough, the door slams open with an urgency usually reserved for life and death emergencies, which might make sense seeing as both Emerson and Sebastian were supposed to be MIA at the present time. Speaking of which, he’s pretty sure that’s the younger Kropp brother getting out of the car, not the elder. 

 

“Ash, what’s- Emerson!” Daniel cries and throws his arms around the boy, who had been walking towards them before he was ambushed. “Oh my god, we were so worried when I got your text. What the fuck happened?” 

 

Emerson visibly gulps and Ashley moves from his place against the wall, frowning. “I have a better question. Where’s Sebastian?”

 

“Yeah, you weren’t supposed to leave his side!” Daniel quickly says, panic overtaking his features. With all the shit Sebastian has pulled in these last few days, he can’t help but feel the same. 

 

“I can’t drive, he’s in the car.” Emerson quickly explains, shooting worried looks at the driver's seat. “But before all that, I need you to promise not to freak out. I know that’s hard, but please.” He’s breathless, panting a little, but his lips twitch upwards into a smile, eyes shining. Ashley doesn’t know what that means. 

 

“Freak out? Emerson, what are you…” Daniel races off towards the car. “Sebastian!” From Ashley’s line of sight, all he can see is Daniel clutching tightly to Sebastian’s long limbs before he stumbles and chokes on his cries. “Wha-” 

 

Ashley turns his gaze back to Emerson, who has shrunken in on himself. “Emerson, what’s going on?” The younger Kropp brother simply gestures behind him and Ashley gently pushes him aside, walking over to join Daniel, Sebastian and… and…

 

“Oh my god… Ashley?” 

 

It’s not real, it’s not real. It can’t be. It cannot be him. It really can’t. It’s impossible. 

 

“No, no, no. It can’t be. It can’t…” Ashley’s eyes widen and he shakes his head, hands twitching, cigarette long forgotten in his grasp. It drops and he quickly snuffs it out, running forward and grabbing at shoulders, then arms and then a body is being crushed in his clutch. His eyes sting with tears and he clings to the other like a lifeline. “You can’t… this can’t be real.” He feels hands on his back, fingers gripping at his clothes. 

 

“It is.” The voice is different, but his. It’s Remington, in his arms, in his reach. His head sinks into Remington’s shoulder. 

 

_ Remington. It’s actually Remington! _

 

“You’re… you’re here, here w-with me.” He’s forcing himself not to cry, but it’s hard. It’s so, so hard. Fingers become entangled in his hair and his teeth are clenched tight in order to not let out a sob. When he pulls back, he can finally see the beautiful face he’s been missing for such a long time. Kind brown eyes and that sweet little smile still grace Remington’s face, but his hair is a bright blonde, sticking straight up in the air, spikey and unique, not unlike his voice. 

 

Ashley can’t help himself, he lifts the boy off his feet and spins him around. He’s laughing, they both are. And he loves it. He loves it so much. From the corner of his eye he can see Daniel staring in wonder as Sebastian has a smug look on his face. When he sets Remington back down, Ashley is facing the door, not the road, which makes what happens after probably his fault. Because when he goes to kiss Remington, all he can hear in his ears is a loud protest. 

 

Andy. 

 

From this angle, he can’t see Remington’s face. Only his back and blonde hair and, to Andy, he’s a stranger. A stranger who Ashley is about to kiss. He can tell how bad this looks. 

 

“Ashley!” Remington freezes when he hears Andy’s voice. His face goes white. Ash pushes him away, gently turning him around to face Andy. 

 

Who stops dead. 

 

Ashley can see the others, Jinxx, CC and Jake. Concern paints odd pictures on their faces, but they’re not expressions he’s never seen. He gives Rem a little shove, which sparks Andy off and Ashley watches as the two embrace, wrapping his own arms around them. 

 

“I… h-ow?” Andy seems to be less capable of holding himself back, as tears pour down his cheeks and Rem reaches up to brush them away, pressing their foreheads together gently. 

 

“I’ll explain everything, I promise.” He whispers and Ashley kisses the back of his head. 

 

“You better.” They all pull away and the others are left, stunned, when Remington smiles brightly at them all. 

 

* * *

_ “Life took another turn, _

_ A hurricane has washed away, _

_ The fire that once burned.” _

 

* * *

 

_ “You think there’s anyone else like us?”  _

 

_ “I dunno, do you?”  _

 

_ “Could be. How weird would it be if we were the only ones like this.” _

 

_ “I kinda hope there is.” _

_   
_ _ “Why?” _

 

_ “Because then they could teach us how to not break everything.” _

 

_ They both stare down at the glass shards littering the ground.  _

 

_ “Guess you’re right. Would be nice to have someone who knows what they’re doing.” _

 

* * *

_ “He was there the whole time? Damn it, why didn’t we do anything. I could have done something,” The blonde cursed, scowling.  _

 

_ “You didn’t know. We didn't know.” _

 

_ “I-I could have! I- fuck! I could have done something! He was in there for six years!” The brunet watches as the blonde closes his fist and the mug on the table smashes into tiny pieces, scalding hot coffee spilling out onto the table and the carpet. He shakes his head.  _

 

_ “It’s okay now, darling. He’s safe. He’s safe and with his brothers. And now we know of his existence, we can keep a close eye on him. Protect him.” The brunet waves his hand carelessly and the cup reforms, coffee draining away from the ground, pouring back into the now pristine cup, stains gone like they never existed. He then pulls the blonde closer, brushing his hair back gently. “It’s okay now.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me your best guesses at who these new people are. I'm curious if anyone can get it right. You won't find out for a little while but this'll keep getting more and more complicated and hopefully more exciting. 
> 
> Lyrics are from Vale (This Is Where It Ends) - Black Veil Brides


	12. I'm A Loaded Gun, An Only Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing the tags now. And I will every time a new ship is introduced or a new fandom + set of characters is properly introduced. Mostly to keep you guys in suspense. 
> 
> This took a lot of time for me to write, and I'm sorry for that. It was just so difficult to write, but I hope this is good enough for you guys. 
> 
> Warning - Mild description of a failed suicide attempt. Proceed with caution. I was very careful treading around it. 
> 
> Over 1800 words.

_ Jinxx tightly wraps his arms around himself as the rain soaks him to the bone. It’s cold and wet and he can barely see, the moon only somewhat illuminating the land. His little flashlight doesn’t help much either, but he can’t find it in him to care. He needs to be here, really needs to.  _

 

_ Ten minutes tick by in silence only broken by the patter of rain on the ground, but even that slows and he brushes his wet hair back before checking the time, the gravestone to his left slick with water, shining when his mobile lights up. 11:55.  _

 

_ “Almost time,” he says, resting his arms on his knees. “I can’t believe it’s been so long. I mean, these years have almost sped past in a blur. I don’t know if Emmy told you this, but we’ve kept up with our music, you know, for you. I’m sure that’s what you’d want. We waited, a few months, until after your 19th birthday… or what was supposed to be your 19th birthday... Fuck, I hate this. Sorry.” _

 

_ He reaches into his jacket, withdrawing his prize. “I thought it might be fitting, seeing as it’s your 21st.” In his hands, two beers are clutched. He places one down right next to the gravestone. “That we could have a drink. You know, like most best friends.” Using his keys, he gets the cap off his own and takes a swig. “I promise I’m not driving like this. I’m not stupid.”  _

 

_ Nothing. Not that he expects anything.  _

 

_ “Ash probably won’t get out of bed until midday, but I’m sure he’ll come here by himself. The others will be here tomorrow morning, like usual.” He checks his phone again, smiles, and clinks his bottle against the lone one. “Happy birthday, kid.”  _

 

_ The longer he sits drinking, first his bottle and then the one left in the grass, the more his thoughts trail back to the others. Despite the years that have passed, he still has nightmares about one of the others disappearing, or even just dying in his arms. He always checks their rooms, usually to annoyance or bleary-eyed worry. Every week he visits Emerson and Sebastian, always making sure they’re okay and happy and safe.  _

 

_ “I really wish we could have done this properly. Or at least, I wish you’d have lived to your 21st birthday.” He keeps both bottles close. “You deserve more than this. I just... wish everything was different. Fuck. I’m really bad at this.” _

 

_ He then rises from the ground, pulling his wet hair away from his face. “I better go before they get worried. I only told Jake I was coming. And that’s only 'cause he woke up when I got out of bed.” He pulls out his phone again, 12:24. “So anyway. Happy birthday, Rem... Happy birthday.” He sighs, tucking the bottles under his arm and walking away, humming happy birthday under his breath.  _

 

_ He catches a bus home, silently traverses the house and slides into bed, Jake rolling over and wrapping his arms around him, comforting him.  _

 

* * *

__

_ “You think this is a good idea?” _

 

_ “Sure.”  _

 

_ “Somebody might die.” _

 

_ “Not if we’re careful.” _

 

_ “Okay, but… we could be seen.” _

 

_ “Careful, remember.” _

 

_ “Fine, but if everything fucks up, I blame you.” _

 

* * *

__

_ The bathroom door is locked and Emerson is scared. So scared. Because he can’t get in and Ash won’t come out and he’s been in there for too long and been too quiet.  _

 

_ “Ashley, come on, please!” He whines, pounding his fist on the door. He’s been doing this for maybe ten minutes now and hasn’t gotten a single response. No annoyed groan or irritated protest. “Ash! Answer me!” He leans against the wall beside the door, hitting it once again.  _

 

_ “Emerson, what’s wrong?” For one hopeful second, he thinks it’s Ashley, but instead, CC walks down the hall, frowning in confusion. And then worry when he takes in Emerson’s distressed state. “Emerson?” _

 

_ “Ashley won't come out. He isn’t responding either.” _

 

_ “Locked?” CC asks, walking over and testing the door himself. It doesn’t budge. “Ashley!” He rattles it. He glances over at the Kropp boy before he kicks harshly at the lock. It moves a little. A weak whimper echoes from the room. They both count that as somewhat of a success. CC kicks it again and the thing yields, making a strange noise before the lock mechanism breaks. Emerson immediately opens the door, dropping to his knees when he sees what has happened.  _

 

_ Ashley is propped up against the wall, eyes unseeing, barely breathing, trails of bile coming from his lips. His skin is pale and his face is gaunt. “Ashley?” He can barely say and then he’s being pulled back and CC is shaking Ashley, who lets out little whimpers, shivering. Emerson sees, out of the corner of his eye, a bottle of sleeping pills lying, forgotten, on the floor. He’s pretty sure he goes white at this point, feeling lightheaded and sick. He can vaguely hear CC calling out for the others, all he can do is crawl over to Ash and wrap his arms around the older male, who attempts to lay his shaky fingers on Emerson’s shoulders.  _

 

_ “Em.” He sounds tired, whispering before his eyes slide shut and his grip finally goes limp. Emerson feels someone pull him up from the floor but he can’t stand on his own two feet, reaching out uselessly towards Ashley, even as he’s picked up and carried away.  _

 

_ He doesn’t fall asleep, but the world instead seems to blur around him, making him dizzy. He’s sure he almost throws up several times, but the same person who had picked him up is now hugging him tightly as they sit, pressing his head to their chest. He can’t look up, can’t really see anything, and so he doesn’t try to.  _

 

_ “Emerson,” the same someone whispers into his ear. “You awake?” _

 

_ He gives a little nod. _

 

_ “Can you walk?” _

 

_ He shakes his head.  _

 

_ “Okay.” Suddenly he’s being hefted up into the air again, and then the warm presence of the other person disappears and he’s left sitting in a chair. No, not just a plain chair, but a wheelchair. He’s being pushed through places he can’t see, everything simply a spiral of colours. They come to a sudden stop and the person leans down, hair tickling Emerson’s cheek.  _

 

_ “Feel sick still?” _

 

_ He doesn’t. Not really. But he feels really weak and can’t make anything out. “Can’t see.” He squints when they move again, towards a brighter room, before he screws his eyes shut completely.  _

 

_ “Here.” Everything slows and he takes a peek at his surroundings again. Not everything is in focus, but he can make out vague shapes. He tries to look behind him but his stomach flips and he lurches forward, barely being able to hold himself back from being sick. A hand comes to rest on his forehead, cool and soothing, so he stays still until his body settles. “Okay now?” _

 

_ “Who?”   _

 

_ “Still can’t see?” _

 

_ “Maybe…?” He can’t be sure. The hand shifts to his shoulder, the person moving around the wheelchair to kneel in front of him. It’s not Sebastian, hair’s too long for that. Nor is it Andy, though why it wouldn’t be hasn’t quite come back to him yet. He instead lets himself rest back in the chair and waits for his vision to fix itself. He blinks a few times and though the light still hurts he can finally make out who is in front of him.  _

 

_ “CC?”  _

 

_ “Can you see me now?”  _

 

_ He nods again but it gives him a headache and he squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t quite figure out what is happening or where he is. But he’s not alone, and for that he’s glad. “Where’s… where is everyone?”  _

 

_ “Who?” _

 

_ “Where’s…” He’s sure someone else is supposed to be with them. Where’s Ashley, Jake, Jinxx, Sebastian, Mom, “Rem?” _

 

_ CC sighs, shaky and tired. He takes Emerson’s hands in his. “He’s… he’s not here right now, Em.”  _

 

_ “Oh… okay…” _

 

* * *

__

Jinxx’s hand is shaking in Jake’s grasp so he tugs him a little closer. His eyes are staring straight ahead at the stranger smiling at them. Stranger? The kid is familiar, eyes sparkling and face straining with the pull of the smile, despite the hollow exhaustion portrayed in his stance and how much he is leaning on Ashley. Who just… lets him. 

 

Andy’s face is tear streaked and Emerson has his arm thrown around Sebastian - that fucker, scared all of them shitless - and Daniel, who is still somewhat starstruck. 

 

“Jinxx?” He finally looks away from the stranger and his eyes are wide. 

  
“Remmy.”

 

Something clicks and his gaze immediately tracks back to the stranger, who isn’t actually a stranger. It’s Remington. Actually Remington. Suddenly everyone’s reactions make sense. Rem walks over, supported heavily by Ashley, who looks like Christmas has come early. Slowly, Jinxx breaks away and pulls Rem into a tender hug, still shell shocked and stiff. 

 

They help him inside, uneasy yet happy, fearful that this is just a dream. Might as well be as nothing is making sense. Remington settles into the couch, Ashley immediately taking a spot next to him, followed by Andy. Emerson sits at his brother’s feet and Sebastian remains standing, but the rest of them silently take seats across from them. 

 

“Can I just say something?” CC asks and Remington stares at him as if his voice is the most heavenly thing he’s ever heard. “Ehem… What the fuck?” 

 

Jinxx cracks a smile and Jake reaches over, taking his hand. 

 

* * *

_ A few bottles lay from where they were fucking around earlier, attempting to catch them before they smashed to pieces. It was tough work, focusing so hard on such a task, but they’d managed to practice quite enough that a break was in order. The brunette’s hand is pressed against his back, pulling him close for their lips to meet.  _

 

_ “Fucking disgusting!”  _

 

_ The blonde narrows his eyes, leaning away a little and letting in a slow breath. There’s a short pause and then he can finally see the drunk man, having left the bar, shouting profanities at the pair. He then feels pressure on his ankle and something sharp sinks into his skin. All he does is grin as the serpent slithers away from him, the brunette frowning but nodding.  _

 

_ That’s all it takes and then he spins around, grabs the drunk man and bites harshly into his neck, the man quickly going limp. He can taste the blood on his lips, the venom on his tongue, and he licks it up, eyes wild. The brunette simply shakes his head. _

 

_ “Be careful my ass.”  _

 

* * *

__

Stephanie Rachel Kropp knows something was wrong. Her motherly instincts are too good that when Daniel had left her that update, telling her that Emerson was  _ fine _ , she immediately knows something is wrong. She can’t leave at that moment, but the next best thing is to try calling one of her kids, one of them. The phone rings a few times and she hopes and prays.  

 

She’d lost one. She couldn't lose another. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Nobody's Hero - Black Veil Brides
> 
> New ship is Jake/Jinxx or Janxx. 
> 
> Also, three new sets of new characters. Two last chapter and another set this time.


	13. Until You Burn All Of The Witches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Remington Leith. Hope this isn't too late, probably is. 
> 
> Sorry, this took so long, definitely struggled with this one. Hope you enjoy all the same.

_Palaye Royale - Get Higher_

 

_Published on May 5th 2013_

 

_I’m going to start off by apologizing for how inactive we have been on both social media and with our music, but I’d like to inform that we’ve been recently going through tough times and ask that you respect that. Thank you to everyone who has given us time to work through everything we’ve been going through, we appreciate it._

 

_Not many of you will know but on the 5th of February this year, our family lost someone very important to us. Our mother lost a son and Sebastian and I lost a brother. On the 5th of February, the world lost the beautiful and kind soul of Remington Leith, and we’ve neglected to announce due to the struggle we have all been dealing with._

 

_Some may note that this period of mourning has also affected the rock band Black Veil Brides, and you are not wrong to make this connection. Our two bands are closely interconnected and so they have taken a break from work, cutting off their tour early in order to return home and be together with us, as a family._

 

_This song was pre-recorded and the video previously shot before February and was set to release much earlier in the year but due to everything that has happened, we decided to push it back and instead release it on what would be Remington’s 19th Birthday, seeing it only fitting in memorial as I am sure he would rather us give you our music and continue on his legacy and our passion than let it sit, collecting dust. This is coinciding with the return of Black Veil Brides to both the touring and recording scene as we attempt to move on for his sake. On behalf of all of us, I ask that you don’t batter both us and BVB with questions pertaining to the events of the previous months and respect our family’s privacy._

 

 

__\- Emerson Barrett_ _

 

 

* * *

 

Stephanie knows she’s going too fast, aware that she’s breaking road rules, but she can’t stop. Neither of them picked up, partook in the simple act of answering the phone, and so she can’t help but worry. And stress. And freak out, because she’d already lost a son, she’d already lost one of her precious children and she can’t bare to lose another.

 

Their house is empty and the car is gone, so they aren’t home, and that only worries her more.

 

“They’ve just gone to Daniel’s house, that’s all,” she tells herself aloud but she doesn’t believe her own words.

 

That said, she races over to Curcio’s house lightning fast, ignoring speed limits and swerving in and out of traffic. All because she’s scared, she’s so scared. Her fingers grip the wheel tightly, knuckles white and teeth grit harshly. Daniel’s house comes into view and relief sweeps over her when she spots Sebastian’s car in the driveway, parked awkwardly with the top up. It’s covered in dust and makes her tongue dry just thinking of where they might’ve gone.

 

“Sebastian?! Emerson?!” She calls out once out in the open, gaining no response other than an echo and the rustle of wind. She stalks over to the door and knocks forcefully and thankfully noise comes from inside, rushed footsteps and unintelligible murmurs and cries. “Daniel?!”

 

The door swings open and Ashley stares back at her, visibly gulping. He doesn’t say anything to her, simply turning around and shouting to the others, “She’s here!”

 

A muted ‘fuck’ comes from a few doors down the hall. Sebastian’s head pops out of one of the openings for a second before ducking behind it again. She frowns, worry turning into annoyance. She has freaked out for no reason and while that has been partially her own fault, it is also their fault for not picking up the phone.

 

“Ashley, what is going on?” The man turns back to face her, nervous yet... is that excitement that she can see beneath the surface? She narrows her eyes in both suspicion and confusion. “Ashley?”

 

“Uh… Don’t freak out…” He spins on his heel and calls down the hall for Emerson who peeks out further down than where Sebastian had come from. “Your mom’s here.”

 

Emerson gives her a sheepish smile. Her frown deepens, but suddenly lets up when he walks down the hall and gives her a hug. She quickly wraps her arms around him, loose enough that he can escape them if he wishes. She’s aware that he’s a little more weary at giving her hugs now, but he’d forgiven her long ago although she still harbours some guilt for what happened.

 

When she feels him gently pull away she lets him, letting her arms hang at her sides. He, like Ashley, looks quite nervous. She gives him a questioning look and he lets out an anxious chuckle, his nails digging half crescents into his palms. “Like Ash said, please try not to freak out, mom.”

 

“What are you talking about, Emerson?”

 

“Promise?”

 

She does her best to nod, uneasy yet curious. “Yes, I promise. Now, what are you talking about?”

 

“Come in.” He gestures down the hall and she follows him to the back room, where Andy sits on the bed next to a figure sleeping soundly. She’s confused for a second, at Andy gently stroking the decidedly male figure’s blond hair and Emerson shooting her nervous looks, like she’s about to scream or burst into tears. When she doesn’t give him a reaction, he nods towards the bed, towards the boy lying in it.

 

She walks over, confusion taking over her expression. Andy notices her and after a moment of surprise and worry, he pats on a spot for her to sit down on, closer to the person’s head. She hesitantly sits, tearing her gaze away from Andy’s peculiar expressions to the boy’s face. It’s… familiar, and she can’t place why for a few seconds. And then her heart stops.

 

Because it’s her baby. Her baby boy, the one taken from her years ago, plucked out of life with no hesitation.

 

Here, sleeping peacefully and when she leans down to look closer, she can feel his warm breath on her face. Alive, breathing and in one piece. Shivers run down her spine and she takes up the task of running her fingers through his hair, whispering softly.

 

“My baby, my darling baby.”

 

From across the room, Sebastian and Emerson share a smile.

 

* * *

_"Breathing, I am fading,_  
_I feel like I'm losing myself,_  
_Wanting, wishing,_  
_I could be someone I'm not."_

 

* * *

 

His eyes trail across the destruction around him. Just standing outside it is hard to comprehend what actually could create the mass amounts of damage surrounding him. “What the fuck happened?”

 

“Come on, Dallon.” A voice comes from behind him, almost startling him. His blue-haired friend stands there, frowning like he really doesn’t want to be here, but nods ahead. “We should find out what actually happened.”

 

“Are you sure, Ryan?”

 

“No.”

 

Dallon shakes his head and enters anyway. He has to dodge rubble and glass shards but he manages to get halfway through before he notices something. “Wait…”

 

“What?” Ryan asks, pausing.

 

“This wall’s intact. Somehow. Glass too, no cracks or anything.” He runs his fingers along the pane, but it’s smooth and clear. As he slides his hand down, he finds the surface become slick with some sort of liquid and so he withdraws his hand. The stuff is sticky and he looks down at it, freezing up when he finds it to be… blood?

 

“Fuck.” He can’t stop staring.

 

“Dallon?”

 

He follows the red with his eyes and covers his mouth when he finds the source. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. No, no, fuck this.” He steps back and into Ryan, who catches him, confused for only an instant before he sees the same thing as Dallon. A body - **_A dead fucking body_ ** \- lies on the ground, covered in blood. He feels sick, really sick.

 

“Shit…”

  
They both step away, looking anywhere but the ground. They meet each other's gaze and gulp.

 

“What do we do?” Dallon asks, all the colour draining from his face. Ryan makes a small movement of his shoulders which could be interpreted as a shrug if he wasn’t so shaky.

 

“I don’t know… pretend we never saw that?”

 

“I-I guess...”

 

As they walk past, they make a big circle around the body, trying their hardest to ignore its existence. Unfortunately, that’s not the only one they come across, with the bodies of dead men and women strewn about crudely, painting a disgusting picture in the hall. At the end of the hall, there is a door, which, when opened, leads to some sort of filing room. Most of it is empty space, like either someone stole a bunch of shit or it was never filled in the first place. The second is more likely, as dust coats the shelves. One thick folder sticks out to Dallon, so he grabs it.

 

There are a few fingerprints of blood like someone was holding on to it while bleeding, but he tries his best to ignore it. The first few pages are simply words on paper, blurring together. A strange symbol continuously appears, again and again, loops and curves creating a sort of diamond shape, but other than that, most of it is a complete mystery. A poorly taken photograph is right at the bottom of the stack but the figure is quite distinct.

 

It’s a kid, no older than nineteen; eyes wild and hair spiked and dark. But his cheeks appear to be streaked with tears and there are bags under his eyes, cleverly hidden behind red makeup. His arms are wrapped around his torso, trapped in a straight jacket, and he’s grinning, crazed yet sad. Dallon quickly flicks back through the other pages, skimming the contents for context. A few words pop out at him; Patient X, destructive, scared, uncontrollable.

 

_Breaks windows, can breathe underwater, can cause earthquakes, keep as calm as possible._

 

Patient X is just like them. Just like him and Ryan. There are others. But where?

 

“Dallon!” Ryan calls out from the other side of the shelf and, after a quick thought, carries the file with him. To… another body. Except…

 

This one’s breathing, but just barely. A shard of glass is stabbed through his side, dripping with blood and Ryan is standing over him, hands on his shoulders, shaking harshly. The man blinks his eyes open slowly, cringing at the pain. Dallon rushes over, keeping a tight grip on the file.

 

“Hey!” Ryan waves his hand in front of the guy’s face. When he finally gets the guy’s attention, he asks a question. “What happened?”

 

“What? Who… who are you?”

 

Dallon leans over Ryan’s shoulder. “Could you answer the question please.”

 

The guy scowls but begrudgingly does. “There were two guys, they destroyed everything and killed everyone.”

 

While Dallon put the pieces together, Ryan continues to ask questions. Who were they, what did they look like, what this place was. He gets vague, unreliable answers for those, but Dallon figures something out.

 

“Ryan, come over here,” he calls from where he has gone, back to where he’d first found the folder. Ryan steps away from the guy and comes to stand beside him, peering over at the page Dallon has stopped on.

 

“Shit. There are others like us.”

 

They both look back to the guy, who has finally shut his eyes for good. They speak in unison, thinking the exact same thing.

 

“Well… fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hello to Dallon Weekes and Ryan Seaman of I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME. 
> 
> Lyrics from We Lose Control - American Satan
> 
> Title is from Absinthe - I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME


	14. You Blame Me For The Madness You Create

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long but here you go
> 
> i did a fic for american satan too, if anyone wants to check it out https://archiveofourown.org/works/18846664/chapters/44727853
> 
> also #freesebastian

_ “Why do you think all these things happen?”  _

 

_ Emerson looked up and met Jinxx’s gaze. “What?” _

 

_ “I said, why do you think all these things happen? Why do you think all these bad things happen to us?” _

 

_ “You talking about Rem, or what happened with Ash the other week? Or two years today when Andy almost jumped off a fucking bridge and CC and you had to drag him back kicking and screaming?”  _

 

_ “I’m talking about all those things.” _

 

_ Emerson takes a sip of cider and frowns. “All those things fucking sucked.” _

 

_ “I can’t believe you’re already twenty-one.” _

 

_ “I can’t believe you’re already thirty-two.” _

 

_ “Touche.” _

 

_ The cold air brushes both their hair back, making Emerson shiver a little.  _

 

_ “Cold?” _

 

_ “Somewhat, but it’s fine.” Emerson reaches over and tugs on his jacket and Jinxx smiles at him. He’s tired, they all are. Ashley still lies in a hospital bed, Remington probably lies six feet under. Sebastian won’t even look at him anymore. And he sits outside on a cold winter's night, beside the best friend of his dead brother, talking about how everything went to shit almost five years ago.  _

 

_ “How are things with you and Jake?” Emerson asks and Jinxx chuckles.  _

 

_ “Always wanting the gossip.” _

 

_ “Of course.” _

 

_ “Fine. Nothing much has changed, we’re still going great despite the awful things that have happened.”  _

 

_ “That’s good.” _

 

_ “You? Found anyone?” _

 

_ “Not yet,” Emerson sighs. “Haven’t really thought about looking.” He then places his drink down and crosses his arms, looking up at the stars. “I bet Rem would want me to though.” _

 

_ “He would.”  _

 

_ “Damn it.” Emerson huffs and Jinxx glances up at him from behind his hair.  _

 

_ “Em?” _

 

_ “Damn it, I hate this. I miss him so much. I want him back.” _

 

_ Jinxx shuffles closer and places his hand not holding a cigarette on the younger boy’s shoulder.  _

 

_ “I know. But… we can’t get him back.” He pulls Emerson into a side hug, kissing the top of his head. “I’m sorry, kid.” _

 

* * *

__

_ “Uh… I kinda need to talk to you guys…” _

 

_ “Yeah, Remmy?” _

 

_ Sixteen-year-old Remington stands in the centre of the living room, biting his nails as he waits for his brothers and his mom to sit down. Eighteen-year-old Sebastian rolls his eyes, knowing what this is going to be about. He’s seen all he’s needed to see. Thirteen-year-old Emerson though, has no clue what is going on.  _

 

_ “Uh I… uh…” He gulps. “I sorta have a… boyfriend…” _

 

_ Emerson’s eyes widen but Sebastian just chuckles. The youngest brother flicks his eyes over to his eldest brother and motions with his hands.  _

 

_ “What, you didn’t know? I’ve been seeing him hanging out with some nineteen maybe twenty-year-old. Kinda assumed…” _

 

_ Remington awkwardly stands in the centre of the room and his mother rises from her chair. “I can’t wait to meet him,” She tells him and his face breaks out into a giant smile. And then he looks nervous again.  _

 

_ “What… what if it wasn’t just one person…”  _

 

_ Sebastian narrowed his eyes.  _

 

_ “I’m not cheating or anything though, I promise. It’s just… well… I have two boyfriends who love each other a lot and love me a lot and I just…” _

 

_ “Oh, sweetheart…” His mom wraps her arms around him. “That’s okay. As long as they care about you and you care about them, I-we don’t care about who they are or how many there are. If you’re happy, then that’s okay.” _

 

_ Remington’s smile is shaky.  “I can’t wait to introduce you to them.” _

 

_ “Do you have names to give us?” Emerson asks, curious.  _

 

_ “Ashley and Andy. You’ve mostly seen me with Andy, Seb. He’s twenty. Ashley… he’s... “ _

 

_ “Yes?” His mother stares right at him.  _

 

_ “Twentysix,” he says quickly and she almost doesn’t understand him. And then she gives him a strange look. She looks like she’s about to say something and then she just hugs him again, kisses his forehead and walks away.  _

 

_ He grins from ear to ear and Sebastian shakes his head.  _

 

* * *

__

“How long…?” Stephanie whispers. 

 

“How long?” Sebastian repeats, unsure of what she’s asking. 

 

“How long has he been here?”

 

“Here? Exactly?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Few hours. He almost passed out he was so tired, so we let him sleep.” Sebastian leans against the wall by the bedside table. She gazes up at him, eyes glazed over with joy yet worry. 

 

“How is he…?”

 

Andy raises his head to stare at Sebastian as well. Sebastian doesn’t know what to say. “Well… I… I think he should explain that himself.”

 

“Sebastian.”

 

“Hey, he knows much more than I do. He… he’s not dead, obviously. As for why… he can tell you himself, it’s too complicated. One thing I do want to say though.” 

 

Stephanie waits patiently while Andy rolls his eyes, knowing exactly what he’s about to do. Softly, he speaks. 

 

“I told you so.”

 

Andy groans into his hand. 

 

“You guys should have listened to me.” Sebastian moves from his spot by the wall to stand by the other two. “Honestly, you guys are taking it better than Emerson did. He freaked out the whole time.”

 

“Of course he did.” Andy shakes his head. 

 

“You have given him quite a few scares recently.” Stephanie reaches out and gently swats his leg, reprimanding him. “He’s been through enough already.” Both Andy and Sebastian gulp, guilt lining their faces. “What were you thinking, scaring him like that. I know you had to do…” She gestures to Remington’s sleeping form. “ _ This _ … but…” 

 

“Why did you take him with you?” Andy asks. 

  
“Don’t you remember? Doctor’s orders. He wasn’t allowed to leave me alone for more than ten minutes.” Sebastian kneels beside his brother’s face. “He should wake up soon.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

Before Sebastian can answer his mother’s question, Andy cuts in. “We just do.” The elder Kropp brother looks up at him and the colours surrounding the both of them get sharper, brighter. He squints a little and they die down, Andy staring straight back at him. They both know they’re going to question the other later.

 

Almost as if he hears them, Remington shifts and his dark brown eyes blink open. Their mother freezes from where she’d been running her hands through his hair. 

 

“Good… afternoon, Rem,” Sebastian tells him and he grins at him. 

 

“Sebby.” 

 

Andy and Stephanie immediately shuffle down the bed as Remington sits up. The boy doesn’t make any notion to show that he’s seen them. “How are you feeling?” Sebastian asks and his little brother shrugs. 

 

“Still tired.” He then turns and looks stunned at the other two in the room. Andy sends him a hesitant smile but their mother is simply frozen. 

 

“Mom?”

 

She visibly tries not to cry and Sebastian stands, moving to sit beside his mother, placing his hand on her shoulder and pushing her over towards her younger son. Remington reaches out and wraps his hands around her waist while she does the same around his shoulders. Now she begins to cry, as her child who had been torn so heartlessly from her is now in her grasp. 

 

“Hey, mom?” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I missed you.”

 

“Me too.”

 

* * *

“Stop! Please!”

 

“Why are you doing this?”   
  


They’re all faceless, pitiful and terrified. Good. The blonde grins and the glass shatters around them, the building shaking. The brunet shakes his head, waves his hand about and the glass goes back to where it was, cutting through anything in its way, whether it be splinters of wood or flesh. Blood becomes embedded in the panes of glass that have just reformed, splattered across it as well. 

 

“Where’s the file?” The brunet asks someone and she insists in a distinctly female voice that she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He sighs and lets her drop to the ground where she hits her head on a few bricks that had been torn out of the wall. He walks away, shooting a look at the blonde. 

 

“Anything?” 

 

“Nope.” The blonde shakes his head, striding forward through all the blood and gore. The hallway continues on for some time and at the end of it is simply a door. The brunet goes and opens the door, saving the blonde from tearing it down. Only one person is inside, a man with his fingers clutching a hefty file. 

 

“There it is.” 

 

The man automatically looks alarmed, fumbling for a gun which lies on the table next to him. The brunet has only seconds to flick his finger before a bullet goes flying towards the blonde, but it’s enough to stop his friend from getting hit. The gun shatters to pieces only a moment later. Shards of wood and glass spear through the man’s torso, none piercing anything important. 

 

He’ll be lying in agony for a while. 

 

The blonde snatches the file out of the man’s hand, bloody fingerprints leaving stains on the cover. He flicks through the papers, taking one out and tossing the file back. He stuffs the paper in his pocket and looks back at the brunet. 

 

“Let’s go.”   
  
“Wait!” The man calls out and the blonde scoffs, striding out. The brunet turns, his sharp gaze tearing down any false confidence the man had. 

 

“What?” 

  
“You-you’re like him, aren’t you!” The man gestures to the file and the brunet ponders him for a minute before nodding. Once he gains this confirmation, the man rests back against the wall. “There are others, like him and his brother?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But... what...what are you?” The man shivers.

 

“Someone you never should have messed with.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and yeah, this exists. 
> 
> Chapter title is from Joan Of Arc by In This Moment.
> 
> Question, who thinks I should swap the title of the fic 'I Mean It, You'll Be Fine' and chapter 8's title 'You'll Be Fine' around?


	15. I'm A Fucking Arsonist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while. sorry.
> 
> Chapter title is from Crazy=Genius by Panic! At The Disco

_ “You know they’re lying, right?” Sebastian stands next to Emerson, arm around his shoulder, holding him close. A photograph sits comfortably between his fingers, defiant and stiff. Remington stands in the middle of the photo, grinning from ear to ear, beside Ashley and Sebastian.  _

 

_ Emerson had taken that picture. Only moments after it was taken was he ambushed by Andy and Jinxx, and in turn, Emerson almost dropped the camera.  _

 

_ “Lying?” He asks, confused.  _

 

_ “He’s still here,” Sebastian says and Emerson frowns up at him.  _

 

_ “Stop it.” _

 

_ Sebastian steps away from him and the younger brother rubs the tears beading at the corners of his eyes.  _

 

_ “Emmy.” _

 

_ “I said stop it. Stop this stupid pretending.” Sebastian goes to place his hand on Emerson’s cheek and he flinches away from the touch. “Stop it! You’re lying Seb! You’re lying and they’re telling the truth.”  _

 

_ “Emmy,” Sebastian sighs. He looks like he’s about to say something else but he doesn’t, instead stepping away and walking down the hall and out of his sight. Emerson slides into his room, slams the door shut and cries, loud and cracking and he adds screams of agony to the mix. He screams and screams and screams about how unfair it is, how awful it is, how it should’ve been him. Not Remington. He blames himself because he hates it.  _

 

_ It shouldn’t have been Remington.  _

 

* * *

__

The serpent wraps itself around his shoulders, head resting against one side of his neck. The other side has the brunette, who’s not quite brunette anymore, standing out from the greys with his dark blue hair. 

 

“It’s too quiet,” the other whispers and the blond hums in agreement. His lips press to his companion's forehead. “Too calm. We should go.”

 

He goes to move and the blond pushes him down, instead unwrapping the snake and letting it slither down the alley, tilting his head a little. The blond can hear it hiss and he pulls his friend up and lets the serpent lead the way. Men fall at their feet as the snake does its work, yet the blond frowns, suddenly pushing his friend away as he is suddenly pressed up against the wall with a knife at his throat. The guy is wearing protective clothing, to stave off the serpent’s bite, and glares at him. 

 

The blond scowls. 

 

“Finally found you,” the man tells him, the knife pressing harshly against his throat. The blond tilts his head back and makes eye contact with his friend, who is mostly hidden behind the wall, and gestures ever so slightly for him to run. Almost silent footsteps carry to his ears but they guy doesn’t notice a thing. Good.  

 

“Were you aiming to get all your buddies murdered? That why they aren’t as geared up as you?” The blond spits venom in the guys face and it marks his goggles, dripping to some of his bare skin, which he shakes off. The knife draws blood. 

 

“I would stay still if I were you.” The man shoves the blond upwards so that the blond has to go on his tiptoes to touch the ground. 

 

“You can’t even imagine being one of us.” He knows he’s in a tough spot, that this guy has him cornered. But he’s not scared, he can’t be. He needs to get out here or his blue-haired friend is going to either find his mangled body or never find one at all. So he grits his teeth and stares down at him with his wildest look possible. It does some to freak the guy out, as it does all the time, but unfortunately not enough for the blond to get any sort of breathing room. 

 

“Someone tore down the facility.” 

 

“Oh?” He hadn’t heard about that. “Since when?”

 

He can feel blood beginning to slide down his neck and to his shirt and he grimaces. 

 

“Don’t act so innocent.”

 

“Hey, fuck you. I don’t know shit about someone destroying that damn facility. Not that I’m not glad that it’s gone, but it’s not my fucking fault.” The guy elbows him in the gut and he lurches forward on instinct, knife grazing his throat further. 

 

“You lot are all the same.”

 

“Tell me…” The blond isn’t sure that it’s going to work, but when he spies two figures making their way down the alley, unaware and oblivious, he spots his chance.

 

“Two of you freaks came and tore it to pieces, killed everyone, and took off with a good chunk of information we had. Not to mention that two days previous, patient X escaped with assistance. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

 

Patient X. He’s heard bits and pieces about the guy through whatever he could find out their pursuers, and damn does he feel sorry for the kid. Kept in a cell, all alone, for years. He’s glad that escaped, but no, he’d heard nothing about any of this.

 

The bystanders walking down the alley finally spot him, and freeze. He stares at them and one stumbles back, making enough noise that the guy becomes distracted, half turned around when the blond elbows him, ducks from a slash, wrestles the knife away, and kicks the guy to the ground, effectively knocking him out. Both he and the scared bystanders watch as the snake slithers back out of its hiding spot and sinks its teeth into the guy. 

 

The blond only remembers the wound when he begins to feel light-headed, wavering on his feet. The two strangers bolt over to him, shaking out of their mind but still willing to help him. He’s thankful, letting them in. They hesitantly guide him to the ground and when one slides his mobile out to call an ambulance, he quickly shakes his head, holding his hand to his neck. 

 

He then gives the strangers a once over. One has brown hair, and is what one would call, an incredibly tall glass of water, making the blond feel kind of small compared to him. The other has light blue hair and a soft, kind face, worry etching lines into his features. 

 

The blond quickly tears a piece of his white shirt and the brunet helps him wrap it around his neck, applying pressure to the wound. 

 

“Uh… shouldn’t we get you to a hospital?” The blue haired man asks, concern evident in his voice. 

 

“No, please don’t.” 

 

The duo shoot looks at each other. 

 

“Okay…” The brunet slows says. “I’m Dallon and this is Ryan.”

 

The blond musters up a smile and a wave, speaking slowly. “Maxx.”

 

* * *

__

_ Ash has to admit, the music Sebastian writes is incredible. It sounds like something Remington would write, and he can almost hear Rem’s voice in his head, singing the songs. With the soft music echoing through his ears, slowly building into something heavier, he watches as Daniel, Sebastian and Emerson perform. They build up to the chorus and Emerson hesitantly sings until he cuts off, drums, guitar and bass following suit. Emerson is shaking his head.  _

 

_ “I can’t… I just can’t.” He looks up at Ashley, pleadingly. “Please. I can’t sing for him. Please, Ash, please do it for me.” _

 

_ Sebastian places his hand on Emerson’s shoulder as the younger boy begins to cry silent tears. Ash quickly takes the mic, picks up a sheet of lyrics and leans down, pressing his lips to the younger boy’s forehead.  _

 

_ “Okay.” _

 

_ “I fell in love with my best friend, _

_ She fell in love with you instead, _

_ 'Cause she's a teenage heartbreak queen, _

_ Oh, it's me and my misery.” _

 

_ They continue on the song, Emerson finding more confidence now that Ashley is leading. When they finish, Emerson stands and wraps his arms around Ashley, whispering soft thank yous in his ear.  _

 

_ All he can think of at the moment is how much Remington deserves this, how much he deserves this life and this band. And how he’ll never get it.  _

 

* * *

__

“Where’s Maxx?” 

 

The dark blue haired man is panting hard, the brunet holding him up. His voice is laced with concern and worry. 

 

“We were attacked. He told me to run.”

 

“Why? There should be no reason for them to target you. Nothing has… oh.” The brunet pauses and his eyes dart over to the blond. His arms are crossed and he’s scowling. “Shit.”

  
“Where? Where did you leave him?” The blond asks and the blue haired man fixes his posture. 

 

“I’ll take you there. Fuck, please be alive Maxx. Please…” 

 

As they head out, the brunet takes places his hand on the man’s shoulder. 

 

“It’ll be fine Cody, we’ll find him.” 

 

* * *

“Hey. Hey! Wake up! Maxx?!” Ryan can hear Dallon in the next room. There’s a bit of shuffling and annoyed groaning before Dallon returns to Ryan’s side alongside their new guest. Maxx has a proper bandage around his neck and is looking a little better now that he’s rested, but Ryan’s still unsure. He knows he’ll call 911 as soon as something even looks slightly wrong. 

 

“How are you feeling?” He asks and Maxx looks at him, tired yet grateful. “Hungry?” He gets a nod in return. 

 

As the three of them sit down to eat, Ryan organises his thoughts until he knows exactly what questions he wants to ask. 

 

“So… are we going to talk about what happened?” He prompts. Maxx sighs, running one hand through his hair. 

 

“How much did you see?”   
  


“Some guy attacked you, you knocked him out after he cut up your neck like that.” Dallon gestures to Maxx’s injury. “And then some massive snake went and killed the guy. Which is another thing I’m gonna forget I saw.”

 

“Another…” Maxx’s eyes light up and he springs from his seat, stumbling down the hall as Ryan and Dallon chase after him. Until they stop at a door the pair hadn’t opened for a few days now. Not since the… incident. 

 

Maxx disregards their protests and swings the door open. The broken window and trashed room are on full display. He turns back to them and smiles softly.

 

“You’re like us, aren’t you. You have powers.” 

 

Dallon freezes beside him. They share a look and then Ryan opens his mouth. “You… what… how?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cody and Maxx from Set It Off have arrived. And the mystery continues. Don't worry, we'll centre more on Remington and the others next chapter. Hopefully. 
> 
> Lyrics are from Teenage Heartbreak Queen by Palaye Royale.


	16. Bang Bang, It’s Automatic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what I'm writing again!
> 
> Okay, so I'm really sorry about how long it's taken for me to come back to this. There is a reason why I've come back to it, though. 
> 
> That reason is... 
> 
> This story is currently being written both as fanfiction and as a proper novel. I plan to release it as a novel and will take it down from AO3 when I do so. Be aware of that. 
> 
> Another reason is, Hang On To Yourself. God, that music video has given me a lot of inspiration, and also made me fall in absolute love with Andrew Berkeley Martin, who's their other live guitarist. So he is front and centre this chapter. 
> 
> One thing, the dates. Alright, so I'm not American, I don't usually write my dates as month, day, year. I write it day, month, year. Buttttttttttttt, as this is set in America, I will write it that way. I will need to change shit around with the first chapter, where I wrote it d/m/y but I'll get right on to it.

No matter what those bidders say, Andrew is a good guitarist. He’s not perfect, but he’s got talent, and Alister knows that. That’s why he’s still here. He’d rather be anywhere but here, except he’d rather not be dead, and that’s what would happen if Alister thought he wasn’t good enough. 

 

His day goes like this, wake up to the bright lights of the hospital ward, a glass of water mixed in with something incredibly bitter alongside a sort of sloppy porridge that doesn’t taste as bad as it sounds, for breakfast. Then he was taken out of the ward, given clothes to change into and a shower to take, and then he was on stage. 

 

On a good day, when Patient X was either sleeping or at least content, he can get away with an hour of playing in front of the bidders, who scream the name they know him by, The Rhythmist, and clap widely, some even throwing things his way, whether they be things he can keep, sweets and hats and coats and masks, or things that Alister takes, like money and jewelry. He can batter them away with his guitar if he likes, and that only makes the crowd cheer louder. 

 

On a bad day, when Patient X is screaming or crying, Andrew is forced to play for hours and hours. He collapses most of the time, and that gets him a lot of boos from the bidders, and a glare from Alister. 

 

He’s never  _ punished _ . Not in a way you think a kidnapped slave would be punished. He’s usually sent to the ward, left alone in the cold, white room. The guitar, red coat and pants, and his shoes are stripped of him and he’s forced to lie in bed. 

 

It gets incredibly boring. 

 

He’s found things to occupy his time. He thinks of what Patient X looks like, or what he’s thinking, or what his life was like before now. 

 

He thinks of the old Rhythmist, and wonders how that guy managed to escape the same fate Andrew is currently stuck in. 

 

And then he thinks of how he could escape himself, if he can escape, or if he’ll be stuck here until he dies. 

 

Dinner is always late, and never awful. He’s told it’s the same as what they give Patient X. They want him to be  _ close _ to Patient X. He doesn’t particularly want to get close to the guy, he’s probably had enough strife in his life to meet Andrew. 

 

Andrew isn’t normal, far from it, actually. He’s pretty much impossible to kill, not for lack of trying. You could take off his head, that would probably leave him dead, but he just… heals. Really fucking quickly. He gets tired easily, he breaks bones easily, but those heal up in minutes. He sleeps a lot, he sits a lot, he dances a lot, and he plays a lot. 

 

He’s never really liked to be outside, but he actually yearns for it now. He’s been here longer than Patient X has, but not long enough to have met The Leader, who he’s heard many rumours about from good old Michael, who whispers things to him as they’re lead to their respective theatres. Michael is his only friend here, but the fact that he has a friend to begin with gives him a bit of comfort. 

 

It’s a usual  _ bad _ day, and Andrew has been playing for ages, the room spinning and his head swimming, when Alister slams his cane down on the floor, Andrew immediately dropping to the floor, kneeling and curled over his precious guitar. Sweat drips off him in buckets, but he shakes out his hair and lets his breaths come in harsh and hagardly. 

 

The bidders clear out quickly, but instead of faceless orderlies dragging him back to the ward, Alister stalks down the steps to the stage, walking right up to him and lifts Andrew’s long, curly hair, hair that Michael called very ‘80s’. Andrew doesn’t exactly disagree, that was sorta what he was going for. At least back before he was brought here. Now he doesn’t get a choice, because the bidders like it that way. 

 

Alister stares down at him and then motions for him to stand. This has never happened and it has Andrew really worried. Alister then gestures and two orderlies grab him and force him to follow Alister as he walks back up the stairs and out a different door than the one he came in from. Andrew feels his heart begin to pound in his chest and he gulps, praying that this isn’t the end for him. 

 

They then force him through doors, up a ramp, and into a cramped space, dark space. A loud bang and he’s in complete darkness, the ground shuddering beneath him. 

 

A hiss comes from beside him. 

 

“Andrew?”

 

He recognises that voice.

 

“Michael?”

 

“Yeah.” Is Michael’s response. Michael has never been one for many words, but it could be something to do with the limited seconds they can whisper to each other before they’re sent on stage. 

 

They call Michael ‘The Bassist’ and he’s been here for longer than Andrew. He knew the old Rhythmist, and The Leader when he was here. Apparently, they escaped together, with the help of a duo who called themselves ‘Killjoys’. Michael says they didn’t mean to leave him behind, instead they had been convinced he was dead, and so they’d run off with anger and sorrow in their hearts. 

 

Michael says he doesn’t mind, but Andrew knows he does. 

 

“What’s going on?” Andrew asks and Michael whispers back a ‘I don’t know’. His whole world is jerked forward and he stumbles to the ground, quickly pulled towards Michael. He clutches tightly to the neck of his guitar with one hand and to Michael’s arm with the other. Michael hugs his bass to his chest. They sit on the ground together as the ground shakes underneath them. 

 

Are they in a truck?

 

“They’re taking us somewhere.” Michael carefully grazes Andrew’s fingers, interlocking them with his own.

 

“Where?”

 

“Guess we’ll find out.” Michael shuffles even closer and leans his head on Andrew’s shoulder. 

 

Neither of them have had much physical contact in the last few years they’ve been here, and Michael’s the only one Andrew’s ever had an actual conversation with in all his time trapped. Andrew’s the only one Michael’s had since The Leader and the last Rhythmist left. 

 

No wonder as soon as they’re able to, they get as close to each other as they can. They long for that human connection, both mentally and physically. 

 

Andrew tugs his hand from Michael’s grip and instead wraps it around the other boy’s waist, holding him securely. 

 

“Do you think they’ll kill us?” Michael asks, whispering right in his ear. 

 

“They… they won’t.” Andrew states, but he doesn’t sound very reassured. In all honesty, he doesn’t know. It’s a large possibility, but that’s not something Michael needs to hear right now. 

 

They stay in silence for a little while before Andrew speaks again. 

 

“Who was The Leader to you? You speak of him as someone really close to you. Who was he?”

 

Michael looks down, or Andrew assumes he does, it’s too dark for them to see. “He was my brother… is my brother. Not his fault he… he left…”

 

Andrew runs his hand down Michael’s back, rubbing it in slow circles. The truck slows and both Andrew and Michael freeze, but then it speeds up again and they let out sighs of relief. 

 

Andrew determines something. Once out of the truck, they stick together, and they escape, no matter what. They stay together, search for Michael’s brother and the old Rhythmist, and hide out with them and the ‘Killjoys’, make a life together. Be together…

 

The truck shudders to a stop, Andrew reaches out and finds Michael’s hand again and he squeezes it tightly before shuffling away, murmuring a promise that they won’t let each other out of sight. Michael mutters a yes and then they’re on either side of the truck. The back of the truck opens just as Andrew shuts his eyes. 

 

Light seeps in through the cracks in his eyelids and he lets himself fall limp, deciding to pretend to be knocked out. It’s a last second decision, but when he peeks out, he sees Michael doing the same thing. He’s shaken about a little, and he curses inwardly as his guitar hits the truck wall and echoes with a loud bang. He doesn’t clutch it tightly, but he doesn’t let it fall from his grasp either. 

 

He stiffens only the slightest bit when he feels himself being lifted up and out of the truck in a pair of muscular arms. The guitar sits against his chest, his free arm hanging loosely beside him. He hears what he believes is the same thing happening to Michael, but he doesn’t dare risk another peek. 

 

Two fingers press against his neck and he breathes as slowly as he can. He still has a pulse, and he knows they feel that, but if he can slow his heartbeat, they won’t realise he’s conscious. They carry him out of the truck and the bright light assaults his eyes. After so many years of stage lights, natural light just doesn’t feel right. The hints of sun on his face doesn’t feel right either, although he doesn’t particularly mind, it feels really nice actually. Like home.

 

The person trudges through wet grass, slick from what seems to be dew, and then drops him. It takes a while for him to hit the ground, and he hits it with a crunch in his spine. That’s broken. He knows that. His legs are paralyzed, but they won’t stay like that for long. Hurts like a bitch though. 

 

There’s wet dirt underneath him, not quite a mud but not dusty either. Suddenly, something heavy drops on top of him and he forces himself to be still as he recognises the weight. It’s Michael. 

 

Michael’s head is on his shoulder, so Andrew discreetly whispers in his ear.

 

“Stay still, keep your mouth closed.”

 

Michael makes a low hum in what seems to be a ‘yes’. 

 

The sheet covers them next and he can feel Michael’s heart begin to race as he realises what’s going on. Andrew prays it’s not that. He prays that it won’t be that. He holds his breath. Michael does so as well. 

 

Dirt begins to slowly pile up over their legs and arms, then their torsos and finally their heads. They’re both still holding their breaths, but Michael is starting to shake with exertion. Andrew has no problem holding his breath, he doesn’t exactly need to breathe that much. Of course, he still needs to breathe, but much less than a normal person. He can go without in this situation, whereas Michael cannot. 

 

Michael suddenly intakes a deep breath and holds it in again. More dirt hits them and Andrew winces as it hits them harder and harder, crushing their legs. His spine has healed now, so he’s feeling every single bit of it. He kinda wishes they were still paralysed, at least for a little longer. 

 

The fall of dirt suddenly stops and Andrew blinks his eyes open, finding himself in complete darkness. Michael tries to hold back small whimpers, breathing in heavily again before holding it. Andrew works on moving about, seeing how much space they have to work with. The dirt above them and around them isn’t compact and moves reasonably easily, but he is unsure if the guys that did it are still here. 

 

He doesn’t dare speak, but he moves to wrap his arms around Michael’s waist, running his hands down the boy’s sides in comfort. He’s going to get them out of this, he’s sure of it. 

 

They wait as they listen, and faintly he can hear a vehicle drive off. Andrew waits a few more seconds before he lets go of Michael and moves his arms and legs about, trying to move the dirt around as much as possible. He then pushes upwards, forcing Michael up too. The other realises what he’s trying to do and pushes his arms up as well, digging upwards. They’re still stuck underneath this sheet, but it’s the only thing keeping this pocket of air in, so he thinks it’s probably a good thing. 

 

They dig upwards together, holding their guitar and bass respectively, to their chests. It’s a bit of a struggle, but they manage to worm their way to the surface. The sheet still holds them under, but the push that up too, climbing out, throwing the sheet away, and breathing in the air around them hungrily. 

 

Michael sighs in relief, because not only are they free of the ground, they’re free of Alister, of the facility, of the theatres and wards and the bidders. 

 

Andrew crawls over and hugs Michael tight, guitar lying nearby as he holds the other boy close to him. He runs his hands through Michael’s hair as they both start crying tears of happiness. 

 

“We’re free, aren’t we, Andrew?”

 

“Yeah,” Andrew whispers. “Now… time to look for your brother.” 

 

Michael nods quickly, bouncing to his feet with his bass hanging from one hand. Andrew scrambled to grab his guitar, following Michael’s lead and standing. With the instrument in one hand, he took Michael’s with his other, and they both looked around. 

 

It’s a cemetery, they find. They’d been thrown into an empty plot, buried with no clear marker, simply a few stones. No matter, someone will notice the way the dirt has been messed with, someone will report it. They have to get out of here. 

 

“Where are we?”

 

“I don’t know.” Michael shrugs. “Nowhere near my home, I’m guessing. Too warm.”

 

“Where  _ are _ you from.”

 

“North, New Jersey.”

 

“Oh… that is far.” Andrew leads him through the rows of stone, past one overflowing with beautiful flowers. The gravestone says  _ ‘Remington Leith Kropp’  _ and for some reason, the name sounds familiar. But Michael walks straight past and towards another grave, falling to his knees as he reads it. 

  
_ ‘Gerard Arthur Way’ _ It reads  _ ‘Loving brother, son, grandson, and friend’ _ . Michael presses his palms against it, feeling it all over, pleading to himself that it isn’t real. His fingers traced over the date before he ripped them away sharply. Written there was  _ ‘4/9/1993 - ‘5/15/2011’ _ . 

 

“That’s… that’s the date we were taken,” he whispers. He shoots to his feet, his eyes darting about. 

 

“Your brother?” Andrew asks slowly. Michael nods and then he leans over to look at the grave beside it. Written there is another name and date. 

 

_ ‘Michael James Way’ _

_ ‘Loving brother, son, grandson, and friend’ _

_ ‘9/10/1996 - 5/15/2011’ _

 

“Is that…”

 

“My grave…” Michael lets out a shaky breath. Andrew thinks of something, spins around, and his eyes catch the sight of something.

 

 

_‘Andrew Berkeley Martin’_

_‘A rockstar at heart’_

_‘1995 - 12/17/2012’_

  
  


His birthday was covered by moss, but he could clearly see the date inscribed. The day he was taken. 

 

“They… they… everyone thinks we’re dead?”

 

Michael spins around and his line of sight lands on another grave. 

 

_ ‘Frank Anthony Iero Jr.’ _

_ ‘The most caring son and grandson in the world’ _

_ ‘10/31/1997 - 4/21/2010’ _

 

“Who?” Andrew asks. Michael sighs. 

 

“The old Rhythmist. He and my brother were insanely close. That’s why they left together. They were… they are in love. At least, I hope they are. I hope they’re still together…”

 

Andrew wraps his arms around Michael, running his hands through the other boy’s hair. He knows Michael’s birthday now, knows that he’s younger than him. He’s learnt so much about Michael today, he’s learnt so much about everything today. 

 

“But… why here?” 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Michael steps away from the grave, running his hands through his hair, which is almost to his shoulders and is slicked back. He loosens the locks. “Mom would never allow us to be buried here, no matter where we died. We’d be buried with the rest of our family, in my home town in Jersey. Not… not where ever we are.” 

 

“We’ll figure it out,” Andrew says, throwing his arm over Michael’s shoulder. “For now, lets figure out where we are and where we’re going to go.” 

 

Michael nods and they walk out of the cemetery together, always together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this. Andrew and Mikey will be wandering about this fic from now on, and Gerard and Frank will turn up soon enough. Alister will reappear soon enough and I finally think I've got a sort of ending planned. 
> 
> Next chapter we'll jump back to the others, Dallon, Ryan, Maxx, Cody, and those other two included. Hopefully, it won't take as long to get the next chapter out, because I have the goal of turning this into a book to make some money and pay for school expenses to work towards. 
> 
> I also want to sort of show the world that fanfic isn't all gross and weird. The fanfic to novel thing with 50 Shades Of Grey has really given fanfiction a bad name for regular people out there, who believe fanfics are only smut and self-inserts. Hope this'll show the world what fanfics can really be. 
> 
> Chapter Title is from Hang On To Yourself by Palaye Royale.


End file.
